Home
by makinseyrenee
Summary: Dean's had a hard life. Sure, there's people who've got it worse than him. But he's had a rough run. All he's got is the baby brother, the grumpy uncle and...Stella. He knows not to go down that road because she's got no idea what road he's been walking. Rated M for later content.
1. See You Soon- Chapter 1

See You Soon- Chapter One

"Dean? You with me?" His brother nudged him. Dean looked up, his eyes itching with sleep. "Were you asleep?" Dean Winchester mumbled a no and rubbed his eyes back to the woken world. "We're almost back to Bobby's. Be there in another hour or two. You wanna stop and get a bite?"  
"Uh. Sure. Burgers?"  
"Burgers." Sam agreed. What else were they gonna eat?  
This was one of the rare occasions that Dean was letting Sam drive the car. He was too tired to keep his eyes open but damn, burgers sounded good right now. Maybe just a few more minutes of sleep...He put his head back on the window, murmurs of classic rock lulling him back to sleep.

"Dean. Dean, your phone is ringing." Sam sighed. Dean groaned, knocking his head against the window. All he wanted was some damned sleep. Was that too much to ask for?  
Dean rooted around in the seat to find his phone. To throw it out the window. It was wedged between the seat and the seat belt click that he never used. He flipped it open. "What the hell do you want? Jesus." He snapped.  
There was a quiet sigh on the other end of the phone. "I guess I woke the beast." Whatever witty comeback his brain came up with, he swallowed. "Dean?"  
"Hey, kid. What are you doing up this early? It's like, four in the morning." He rubbed his face, realizing it had been days since he had shaved. That was one of the first things he would need to do when he got back to Bobby's.  
"I know it's early but I left the kitchen a mess last night. I was going to fix you boys a nice breakfast but I guess you'll both pass out as soon as you get here...My mistake. Go back to sleep, Dean. I'll see you later." The phone call was over before he could protest. He tossed the phone to his feet.  
"That who I think it was?" Sam laughed. Dean shot a glare at his brother. "It'll be about forty more minutes 'til we're back." Sam reported. Dean put his head back on the window. Sam shook his head. He figured Dean would be wide awake after that phone call.

They drudged into the house at around five in the morning. No one was awake. Dean fumbled up to his room and tossed his duffle bag towards the closet. He fell onto the bed in a state of pure bliss. It was good to be home.  
When he opened his eyes, two big brown ones were staring back at him. "Shit!" He shouted. The face in front of his own smiled, full pink lips. "What the hell, man?" He pulled the covers over his eyes.  
"Dean. It's after noon. I made lunch." She whispered, gently pulling the covers away from his face. He opened one of his eyes. "Please. I'll even help you work on Baby after. I'm sure she needs some maintenance work." She prodded, finally pulling the covers off of him.  
Dean tried to cover himself. He was shirtless, despite going to bed fully clothed. He had woken up at some point in time and shed most of his clothing, excluding his underwear. "What kinda lunch?" He asked her. Her smiled widened and she said she made his favorite.  
"I'll be downstairs when you're ready to come eat." She skipped out of his room and quietly shut the door. Dean pulled himself out of bed and pulled on his pants from last night and shrugged on his dirty shirt. He sniffed it and shook his head. He hoped she didn't care.  
Sam and Bobby were already congregated at the kitchen table, plates full and mouths fuller. "Mornin' sunshine." Bobby laughed after taking a drink of his water. Dean rolled his eyes and plopped into his usual seat. Dean put three chicken club quesadillas on his plate, along with some fries and a couple pieces of steamed broccoli.  
"This looks good, kid." Dean nodded as he shoved three fries into his mouth. She sat down across from him.  
"Thanks. Didn't take long, thank God. Did you two sleep okay?" She asked, cutting her quesadilla into smaller pieces. Sam said he slept fine. Dean said he couldn't complain. "So, what did you guys do while you were away? You were in Detroit right?"  
The silence after her question was tense. They tried their best to keep her out of stuff. As far as she knew, they were ghost-hunters. And that was it. "Uh, yeah. Didn't get to see much of the city." Sam mumbled, shoving more broccoli into his mouth.  
She was full of smiles today. "That's too bad. Detroit is nice this time of year. Or, that's what my father says. They'd never let me go. Full of bad people, apparently." She laughed. God, she had no idea.  
"Kid, hurry up and eat. Baby needs some TLC and I ain't gonna wait all day." He had cleared his plate before any of them. But she was a good match to him. She had started eating last, making sure everyone was taken care of, but she was done right after Dean.  
"Alright then. Let's go." She wiped her mouth and stood up. She put her plate in the sink and ruffled Sam's hair. "See you two later." She took Dean's plate and put it in the sink. She followed him out to the salvage yard and to where the boys had parked the car that morning. "You know, she looks pretty good. But I guess you never see the inside problems when you look at the outside, do you?" Dean said no. He popped the hood and propped it open with the stick.  
"She needs an oil change, new transmission, something else I'm sure. You positive you're up for this?" She asked why she wouldn't be. He shrugged. "We might give her a scrub down later, if you're lucky." He winked.  
"You just want to see me all wet and covered in soap suds in a teeny bikini." She grinned.  
Dean shook his head, a solemn look on his face. "You know better than that, Stella. You know I don't like you like that. And I'd never objectify you like that, even if I did...you know, like you."  
"Yeah, I know." She laughed quietly. He asked her to toss him a gallon of oil and a funnel. "Can I do it?" She asked as she handed him the funnel. Surprised, but also not really, Dean said yes. He put the funnel over the oil pipe and twisted the cap off the gallon.  
"Just, pour easy. Don't over do it or it's a real mess." He advised her. She tilted the gallon of oil and looked down at the inside of the car.  
"I'm glad you're back, Dean. I missed you." She said quietly.  
He didn't look at her. "I missed you too, kid."  
He wondered how pissed her uptight, rich parents were when they found out she had a tattoo sleeve on her left arm. "Dean, can I ask you a question?" He said sure. "What you do...do you ever get scared? Scared that you won't come back?"  
He furrowed his brow. She never asked questions. She was a need-to-know, not a want-to-know. "Uh. I guess. Sometimes, sure. Where's this coming from?" She said nowhere. She was just curious.

 _"Bobby, who's the hot jail bait?" Dean whispered to the old man. The girl sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing a half glass of Scotch, was a girl he had never seen before. And he was sure he would remember her.  
"Absolutely not. And she ain't jail bait, ya idjit. She's twenty three." Bobby told him. Dean rolled his eyes. "I picked her up in New Hampshire. She was a victim of wrong place, wrong time. Her roommate at Dartmouth was killed by a pretty nasty ghost. I don't know how, but she got me to bring her here. She's a good kid." Bobby sighed.  
Dean scratched his chin and walked into the kitchen. "Kid, what the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked her. She looked up at him, light brown eyes digging into his soul.  
"Drinking a good glass of Scotch. What the hell are you doing here?" She retorted. He smirked and poured himself a glass. "What, no answer?" She continued.  
"Bobby says you got him to bring you here? What's a Dartmouth girl want with people like us?"  
She finished the Scotch and smiled up at him. "I'm Stella. Stella Hamilton."  
"Dean Winchester."  
_  
He stuffed the clean clothes into his duffle, socks and all. The case Bobby dug up was a good few hours away so they were leaving in the morning.  
"Going somewhere?" She didn't even knock anymore.  
"Bobby found us a case in Iowa. We should be back in a few days. Just another restless spirit." He hated lying to her, but it was for the best.  
She sat down on his bed and grabbed his pillow. She sat criss-cross applesauce. "You were only here for a little while. Can't you take a break? Relax for a few weeks?" He scoffed and said he wished. But the world needed cleansed. "I won't be here when you get back. I'm gonna go visit my parents for a few days. Haven't seen them in a while."  
Her parents. He wondered how that would go over. He knew they didn't get along well ever since she left Dartmouth and he knew she hated going up there.  
"Hope you have fun." He mumbled, putting his bag on the floor by the door.  
She licked her lips slowly. "I have to go start dinner. I'm making cherry pie." She smiled as she got up from the bed. He ducked his head as she passed him.  
There was always the fear that if she left, she wouldn't come back. She'd realize how screwed up their world was and get out while she could. He wanted the best for her but he wanted her.

The lights were off. The overhead fan was on. He wanted to sleep. He really did. But he couldn't. The door creaked open slowly. He pulled the gun from under his pillow. Footsteps.  
"Dean? You awake?" Stella. At least she tried to be quiet. He sighed and put the gun back under his pillow. "Take that as a yes." She whispered. She crawled in the bed beside him, pulling the covers over her body.  
God, she was freezing. Her bare legs felt like ice against his. "Why are you awake, kid?" She asked him the same question. "Can't sleep." He relented.  
"Same. I can't ever sleep the night before you leave. I get anxious for you." He hid a smile.  
"That's sweet of you, kid. The pie was great, by the way. In case I didn't tell you." Her arms curled around his and her face snuggled into his neck.  
"You did. You told me four times, five now." Her breath was hot, even though the rest of her was cold. "Thank you. For liking my pie. Even though the crust was burnt a little and the filling tasted funny." She smiled.  
He wanted this. He wanted this to be his life. All of the rest of his nights spent like this, her body next to his, cold as it was. Her face against the skin of his neck, talking about her slightly less than perfect pie that he thought was the best damned pie ever because she made it. Soon enough, she was asleep. Her breaths were light and every so often, she would snore. And soon enough, he fell asleep next to her. Because he always slept better when Stella was next to him.

Dean and his brother packed their stuff up in the car. Stella was leaning against the hood, staring off in the distance. Dean slammed the trunk shut. Sam smirked at his brother and got in the car.  
"Hey kid. Come say good-bye to your favorite guy." Stella looked back at him, pushing her blond hair over her shoulder. She smiled that damned perfect smile and pushed off the hood. She followed him a few feet away from the Impala.  
"I'm gonna miss you. But I guess you already knew that." She smiled weakly.  
"I'm coming back, kid. You don't have to worry about that. Sammy's coming back too."  
She shook her head quickly and he watched her lips quiver. "I don't worry about Sam as much. Because I know Sam isn't going to do stupid shit." He had to smile at that one. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid." He promised her. Because he didn't break promises to Stella. "I'm gonna miss you, old man." God, was she crying? He hated when girls cried. He hated when she cried.  
He pulled her in for a hug. They didn't hug much, as unbelievable as it seemed. "I'm gonna miss you too, kid. And I ain't that much older than you. Two and a half years." More like, two years, seven months and four days.  
When Dean got in the car, Stella was standing a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest. If she was crying, she didn't show it easily. "See you soon, Stella." He told her as he started to drive. Her smile was small, but God it was a Stella smile.  
"Yeah, see you soon, Dean."


	2. Family Don't End with Blood- Chapter 2

Family Don't End with Blood- Chapter Two

The plane ride was exhausting. She sat between a mother and her seven year old daughter. Who was the most annoying brat in the world. Which was saying something because Stella loved children. And children loved Stella. The kid refused to sit down the entire flight. Or stop talking. The flight attendants had run out of headphones before getting to her part of the plane. So it was safe to say that Stella's plane ride was terrible.  
Even though she was twenty-five, her parents refused to let her get a cab home. "Stella! Over here, sweetie!" Stella took a deep breath and put on a smile for her mother.  
Stella's parents were conventional Upper East Side people. Her father worked in some kind of corporate thing and her mother was...well, Georgia Hamilton was old money and that was a good thing to her. She looked like her mother, almost twins was what everyone said. The same blond hair, brown eyes and small nose. The only difference was the lips. Stella's mother had a small mouth, her lips too thin. Mrs. Hamilton tried hard to fix her lips, but nothing seemed to work.  
"Oh my goodness. Look at you! It's been forever since I've seen you." Her mother pulled her in for a hug. Georgia didn't do hugs very often. She held her daughter at arm's length to inspect her. She frowned. "I wish you wouldn't have wasted good money on those trashy tattoos on your arm. Who is going to want to marry you now?" Georgia groaned.  
Stella raised her eyebrows. "How's Daddy? Why didn't he come with you?" Her mother ushered her from the airport and out to the car. Stella would be lying if she said she didn't miss that car. "Terrance! I missed you." She grinned at the driver. He tipped his hat to her and opened the trunk. He put her bags in the trunk and opened the back door. Her mother got in and then she did.  
"I've got very exciting news for you, dear." Georgia said as soon as the door was shut. Stella pulled her phone from her purse and checked her messages. Nothing. "Stella, listen to me." Georgia sighed. Stella said she was listening. "Your father is at the house with the Carlisle's. Ryker is home from Oxford."  
Ryker? She hadn't seen that idiot in forever. "Why are they at the house? And why are the Carlisle's awaiting my arrival?"  
Georgia smiled at her daughter. "You'll see when we get there. Oh, Ryker is going to do flips when he sees you. But those tattoos...I don't know..." She didn't know Ryker's wild side.

"Daddy? I'm home!" Stella shouted into the empty foyer. Silence greeted her. She looked back her her mother with arched eyebrows. "Daddy?" She repeated.  
"Just a second, Stella Bells!" Her heart jumped. Stella Bells. Her dad entered the foyer, a glass of bourbon in his hand. Wilton Carlisle was at his side. "Isn't my daughter beautiful, Wilt?" Roger Hamilton loved his daughter. Loved her more than anything, even his money and his beautiful wife. He embraced his daughter in a better hug than her mother had given her.  
"Hi, Mr. Carlisle. It's great to see you again." Stella smiled.  
"A pleasure, as always Stella." Mr. Carlisle returned the smile. "Ryker! Get yourself in here!"  
Everyone was smiling at her like they had something for her. A present. Ryker Carlisle had used to be an interesting specimen. He had rebelled against his parents, more than she had, and dyed his hair jet black, started wearing eyeliner and just went...all out. But that had been...how many years ago? Too many. Now, here he was, standing in front of her. His brown hair was parted perfectly in a royal comb-over. He was wearing a sweater, khakis and loafers.  
"Hey, Stells. Good to see you." Ryker grinned. Shit, she thought.  
"Ryker. Looks like Oxford did you some good, huh?" She cracked a smile. No, don't flirt with him. You've got somebody, even if you don't really have him. But the part of her, the rational part of her knew that Ryker was okay. He was okay to like, to flirt with. Because all of her knew that Ryker would come back. Ryker wouldn't go away to hunt a few ghosts and never come back. Ryker was...he was stable.  
"Julia says dinner will be ready soon." Mr. Hamilton informed everyone. Just on time, Stella's stomach rumbled.

"So, your dad said you were staying in North Dakota? The hell are you doing out there?" Ryker laughed. New York was chilly this time of year. And the park wasn't doing them any good.  
Stella shrugged. "I've got friends. People I met at Dartmouth." Short answer, clipped. Just the way it needed to be. No one needed to know she hung out with ghost-hunters at a salvage yard in Sioux Falls and kept house for them.  
"Do I get to meet them anytime soon?" She said no. Absolutely not. She had two worlds and she didn't want them to converge anytime soon. Ryker raised his eyebrows. He was going to say something but was cut off by Stella's phone ringing. He watched her eyes light up as she looked at the screen.  
"I have to take this. Excuse me." She whispered. She walked a few feet away and accepted the call. "Dean?" She tried to keep the smile off her lips.  
"Hey kid. What's up?" He sounded...happy. She said she was just walking around the park with a friend. "Sounds peachy. Listen, this job in Iowa's a bit bigger than we originally thought. So if you get back to Bobby's before us in a couple days, don't worry alright? "  
She bit her lip. She didn't like the sound of that. "Be careful, Dean. Tell Sam I said the same thing for him."  
"Will do, kid. I gotta go so I'll see you whenever." He was gone before she could say anything. She put her phone back in her pocket and walked back to Ryker.  
"Let me guess. Boyfriend that your parents don't know about. Or they don't approve of." Ryker smiled easily.  
She shook her head. "He's just a friend. He went on a trip with his brother before I left and he thinks they're going to be gone a little longer than expected." She sighed. She was almost happy that their trip was lasting longer than expected. She wanted to fix them a nice meal for when they got back. But she was worried. Longer trip meant meaner ghost. But they knew what they were doing. Oh well. The walk back to her front door seemed like hours. The silence was smothering.  
The light was still on, indicating her mother was still up and waiting for her. Ryker's brown hair seemed blond under the light, his eyes twinkling like stars. "Hey, do you want to go out tomorrow night? Get some food or something?" He shifted his weight awkwardly. Was he asking her out on a date? Like, a real date? They'd gone out loads of times back in high school but this was different. This was very different.  
"Uh, yeah. I'd like that." She smiled uneasily. _Then why do you feel so bad about it?_

What the hell did she wear? She didn't even know where they were going. She didn't think Ryker was the type to take her to a fancy restaurant or anything, but he was full of surprises. She eyed the phone lying on her bed. She hadn't talked to Dean since the night before and that conversation had been...cool. Dean wasn't the person to ask. She picked the phone up and called the person she knew would help.  
"Stella, is everything okay?" Sam's voice didn't do a number on her like Dean's did. But that was because it was Sam. She said everything was fine. "Are you looking for Dean? He's asleep but I'm sure he wouldn't mind me waking him up." He offered.  
"Sam, I need your help." He said he hoped he could help her. "I, uh, I'm going out with a friend tonight and I don't know what to wear. I don't even really know what we're doing to be honest."  
The other end was silent. "Stell, you're going on a date and you're asking me for help. I don't think I'm in the position to do that." What the hell was he rambling about? "But, you do look nice in that blue dress, the one with the lace over it. Maybe a jacket with it because I'm sure it's chilly up there." Good ole Sam.  
She smiled into the phone. "Thank you, Sam. And please don't say anything to Dean." She didn't need him jumping down her throat about being careful and cautious and all that nonsense. She hung up before Sam could object. She could see the blue dress hanging in the closet. Yeah, that'd look good.

"Wow. You look...great." Ryker smiled. Stella adjusted the brown leather jacket as he opened the door for her.  
"So where are we going?" She asked as they walked down the sidewalk. He said they were going to hang out at Coney Island like they used to. Lord, she hadn't been to Coney Island in years. She was even more surprised when they took the subway. Ryker said it was a lot faster than a cab and cheaper. But he wouldn't ever get on the subway when they were younger, even when he was going through his phase.  
The subway was crowded, chaotic and dirty. But she loved it. Stella was an intense people watcher and this was a prime spot. There was a ratty dressed teen who fell asleep on the shoulder of a woman in a pantsuit. Stella knew that who people were on the subway was who they really were.  
Coney Island was exactly how she remembered it. Little kids pulling their parents around, teen couples carrying stuffed animals. "This place is great." Stella sighed. She could feel Ryker looking down at her. "So what are we doing first? I know you've got an itinerary of our night in your pocket." She smiled at him.  
He shook his head. "Well, we could start with a famous coney or funnel cake or...it's whatever you want to do, Stella." She thought about it. "Let's ride something. You still love the rides, don't you?" He said absolutely.  
As they were in line for the Cyclone, Stella's phone rang. _Sam_. She answered it. "Sam, I'm kinda busy right now. With the thing we talked about earlier." She said. The other end was silent. "Sam?"  
She could hear his deep breaths. "Stell, you gotta get to Iowa. Dean's in pretty bad shape." Oh God. She grabbed the rail.  
"I'm on my way. Just...I'm on my way." She hung up and put the phone in her purse. "Ryker, I have to get to the airport. Now."  
He said he would take her. "Should we go by your parents' first?" They didn't have time. Dean didn't have time.

"Dean Winchester. Where is he?" Her fingernails were bitten down to the quick. The nurse said he was in room 234. Stella didn't even say thank you. She took the stairs to the second floor and found Dean's room. Sam wasn't there. Dean was asleep in the hospital bed. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't want to wake him up but she wanted him to be okay. She wanted him to tell her he was okay. "Dean? Please wake up." She whispered as she sat on the bed beside his legs.  
He stirred. His eyes opened, pools of green. "Stella. What are you doing here?" His voice was raspy. She grabbed his hand.  
"Sam called me. I flew in." She felt like crying. Her eyes burned but she didn't want him to see her cry. "I took the family plane. I guess I'll have to send it back." He tried to sit up but she kept him down. "What happened?" She asked quietly. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know or not.  
"Nothing you need to know about. Just a pissy ghost. Sam ganked it right after though. The world is safer from one ghost."  
"But you're here. In a hospital and you could have...you could have died, Dean." He grabbed her hand, his thumb rubbing over the top of her hand. She closed her eyes.  
"I'm okay, Stella. I'll be outta here by tomorrow." He assured her. _God_ , she thought, _he's beautiful_. "Stella, I'm fine. I swear." He told her.  
She nodded slowly. "Can I lay with you? I didn't sleep on the plane. I was too worried." She murmured. He said of course she could. She curled up beside him, his hand still around hers. She wondered if he was having as much trouble breathing as she was. Probably not because he didn't feel that way about her. He had told her that several times. "I'm glad I've got you and Sam. The big brothers I never had."  
He didn't say anything for a little while. "Well, you know what they say about family, kid."  
She smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "It don't end with blood."


	3. Hooked On a Feeling- Chapter 3

Hooked On a Feeling- Dean

He tried to act like he was busy. He had tried Google and Bing and the newspaper. His last resort was the book. Something he had swiped from Sam's room, he wasn't really sure what it was about. He loved watching her cook. It was his favorite thing to do when they were both home. She was perfect. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail (though it had started to fall down a long time ago) and she was wearing an apron.  
She had earbuds in, her body swaying to whatever song was flowing through her ears. She was rolling the pie crust out. He laid the book down, she wasn't paying attention to him. She turned around suddenly. She took an earbud out. Her eyes narrowed. "You were staring at me." She accused.  
Dean grinned at her. "I tried talking to you." He lied. "You couldn't hear me. When's that beauty going to be done?" He nodded towards the pie on the counter. She beckoned him forward. He got up and stood beside her.  
"You can help me put the top crust over the filling." She told him. She never let him help her. Cooking was her thing, no one else's. "Pick it up easily. You don't want to tear it." Her nimble fingers were actually cut out for this, not his calloused ones. He helped her put the crust on top of the filling.  
"That wasn't so hard." He smiled. She shrugged and opened the oven. She slid the pie in carefully and shut the oven door. She set the timer for forty seven minutes and looked at Dean. "What song?" He asked her.  
"Hooked on a Feeling." She took the other earbud out and laid her iPod on the counter.  
Made killer pies and good taste in music. "Blue Swede, 1974. That's a good one." She nodded and said she was going to go take a nap while the pie baked. He watched her disappear from the kitchen.  
 _Got a bug from you girl. But I don't need no cure. I'll just stay afflicted, if I can for sure. All the good love, when we're all alone. Keep it up girl, yeah you turn me on. I'm hooked on a feeling._  
Yeah, that was it.

Dean could feel her glaring at him as he ate the first piece of pie. She inhaled sharply as he put the pie in his mouth and chewed. Her eyebrows raised as he swallowed.  
"Well?" She asked eagerly. He laughed at her. "Tell me!" She urged him.  
"Best apple pie I've ever put in my mouth." He told her.  
She frowned and got up. He asked her what was wrong. "You said that about the last apple pie I made." He shrugged and said any pie she made was the best pie. The smile he got back was weak. "The crust was dark brown. You didn't notice?" He shook his head. "Why do you like pie so much, Dean?'  
He put his fork down on the plate. "My mom used to make pie. She'd let me help her. It's just...I don't know." He sighed. She took his hand and said that she understood. "How could you? Both your parents are alive." He snapped. His family was a sensitive subject, she knew that. But he needed to vent.  
"My Nana taught me how to bake when I was five. I was the only person she let in the kitchen when she was cooking. The recipes I use, they're all hers. I want to be as good as she was. It's not the same, but I understand. It's all you've got let of her, besides Sam."  
She wasn't wrong. "She taught you well, Stella. If I knew your Nana, I'd kiss her."  
Stella giggled lightly, her eyes shining. "She would have kissed you back."  
 _And if I kissed you, would you kiss me back?_ But all he did was laugh.

By the time he got back from town, Stella was already curled up on the couch, waiting. He plopped down beside her and handed her the bottle of water she asked him to get. She smiled excitedly and pressed play. A month ago, she had gotten him addicted to Game of Thrones. Over the course of a whole weekend, they marathoned the first two seasons (extended editions). Since then, they hadn't been able to start season three because Dean and Sam had been on so many cases. But Dean was now taking time off just to watch season three. And maybe four. Probably four too.  
"You remembered the Twizzlers, right?" He tossed her the bag of candy. "Popcorn?" She hated actual popcorn, but lived off of the Skinny Pop white cheddar popcorn. He threw the bag at her. Before she even asked, he gave her the package of chewy chocolate chip cookies. "I love you." She said.  
He didn't move. He didn't know how to respond to that. He knew she didn't mean it that way. "Yeah. I get that a lot. I'm pretty lovable, apparently. Like a puppy or something." He finally said.  
She tore open the bag of popcorn. "Like a puppy." She agreed.

His eyes tore away from the ceiling to glance at the clock again. Barely after one. The door creaked open, but he didn't look away.  
"Are you asleep?" She whispered loudly.  
"If I was, I wouldn't be now." He replied. She laughed quietly as she crawled in the bed beside him. "We're leaving tomorrow. Got a case in Jersey. Shouldn't take too long, I don't think." He said.  
She didn't say anything to him. Her breathing was steady and he wonder if she had already fallen asleep. He turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were closed, her chest moving up and down rhythmically. With every breath, her nostrils flared slightly. "You're staring, Dean." She murmured. He blinked and turned away from her. "I know being a ghost buster or whatever is what you do, but I worry about you. I always wonder if you're ever going to come back when you drive off."  
Dean, on the inside, smiled to himself. "Is it just me you worry about?" He asked her.  
"No! I mean, I obviously worry about Sam too. Even Bobby when he goes out. I was using the word 'you' as a noun for the three of you." She sounded flustered.  
"Right. Obviously. That's why you left your date to come see me in the hospital." He didn't mean for that to sound as bitter as it did. He didn't need her knowing that he was jealous. She was five or six years younger than him for God's sake. And he didn't want her knowing what he really did.  
She sat up, her brown eyes boring into him. "How did you know about that?" She demanded. Stella Hamilton was a demanding person. He had always assumed it was because she grew up with the life everyone dreamed of. If she demanded something, it was served on a golden platter. Stella was raised with a literal silver spoon in her mouth, though it was probably golden.  
"Stella, you came into the hospital all dressed up, hair done and in heels. And I woke up when you called Sam to ask him what to wear. You know you don't have to hide stuff like that from me. I'm not going to threaten the kid." She took a deep breath and fell back on the bed. "What's his name?" He did not want to know things like this. But he had to. He had to know.  
"Ryker. We grew up together. He just got back from Oxford." Oxford. As in England. Dean was a fool to think he would ever have a chance with Stella. He could not compete with her high end lifestyle. He was a hunter. He grew up using fake credit cards and eating out of diners and gas stations. Stella had caviar and all the money in the world. And Ryker from Oxford. Dean had strippers.  
"I'm happy for you. When are you gonna bring him around to meet us?" She laughed and said never. What Ryker didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Dean hoped the same went for her.

Dean and Sam stole away from the house in the early hours of the morning. Stella was still asleep when they left. "She's gonna be so pissed at you when she wakes up." Sam told him. Dean shrugged. He needed to stop caring about how Stella felt. He needed to stop caring about Stella, in that way. It wasn't good for him. It wasn't good for her.  
"Maybe she'll go back to New York. For good." Dean mumbled. Sam said that he didn't mean that. "Yeah, Sam, I do. It's not good for her to be here. This isn't the life she wants."  
"How do you know what she wants? Besides, Stella loves it with us." Sam countered.  
God, Dean thought, Sam was completely clueless. "I don't care about what she wants. She needs to go back to New York and marry whats-his-face and have lots of babies with him in their rich house and they're gonna grow old together eating filet mignon and whatever else rich people eat." Stella was an elite and she was going to do what the elite did. "And Stella has no idea what we really do. If she ever finds out, I can bet my ass that she'll high tail it out of here. No one wants this."  
They didn't even want this. Out of nowhere, Dean's phone was ringing. STELLA.  
"Shit." Dean muttered. She was awake early. He flipped the phone open. "Hey kid. You're up early." He tried to sound light-hearted.  
"Where the hell are you?" She was pissed. And a pissed off Stella was a terrifying thing. "I can't believe you left without telling me. I mean, I woke up and you were gone."  
He had to ween her off this shit. This couldn't happen anymore. "I gotta go. We'll talk about it when we get back. See ya later." He hung up before she said anything.  
"She's gonna kill you, man." Sam laughed, shaking his head. Better that way, Dean told himself. If she hated him, she would leave. And then she'd be safe. Safe and alive.

"Dean. What the hell? I can't believe you." Stella hissed. It was the middle of the night. Sam and Bobby were passed out already. Dean was sitting on his bed, wondering when she'd show up. "I haven't heard from you or Sam in days. I thought you two were dead. Why would you put me through that?"  
He stood up. They were nearly the same height, but he had a good three or five inches on her. There was a fire in her brown eyes. Not the one he wanted. "You need to go home, Stella. You shouldn't be here. This isn't the life you want." He told her.  
She raised her eyebrows. Even when she was mad, she was the most adorable thing he had ever laid eyes on. "You have no idea what I want, Dean. You never ask me. We never talk about what I want. Or what you want. We sit around and we act like everything is peachy fucking keen." He had never seen her like this. Dean had never wanted this to happen. It was never supposed to get this far.  
"I don't know what you're talking about. But I know you need to go home. This isn't the life you're supposed to have. It isn't right, you being here. You could get hurt. No one wants you to get hurt." I don't want you to get hurt, was what he meant.  
She ran a hand through her hair. "God, Dean. Is that what you want? You want me gone? Fine. I'll go. I'll go to New York and do whatever the hell you think I do. I'll go to my brunches and my galas and fuck, I'll endure my monster of a mother."  
He nodded. That was what he wanted. Her socialite life was all she needed. The palm of her hand struck his cheek. She was staring him down. Her mouth opened, like she was going to say something, but then she closed it. She stormed out of the room, slamming the door as she went.  
Was this really what he wanted? Did he want her to leave hating him? Did he want her to hate him for the rest of her life? He slipped out of his room and into hers down the hall. It was the only room in the house that truly belonged to someone. And she didn't even really live in it.  
"What do you want? You made your point. I'm leaving tomorrow." She told him. He closed the door softly. This was it. What it all boiled down to. Tell her or lose her. And maybe, he would lose her either way. He was older than her, way older, and they were different people with different upbringings and different lifestyles. Maybe it wasn't worth telling her. Not now, anyways.  
"Look, Stella, about what I said. I don't want you to leave. I need you to leave. It isn't safe here for you."  
"I'm not scared of ghosts, Dean. I'm twenty three. Not five." She protested.  
Dean shook his head. "There are more than ghosts out there. Worse things, way worse. If I tried to tell you everything, we'd be here for a pretty good while. I want you in New York because you're safe there. You aren't around me and Sam. People around us, they get hurt. Sometimes, they die. And I don't want that to be you. I don't want you to get hurt because you're a part of my life. At least consider it. Please."  
She dropped the top she had been holding in her hands. "If you think I'm scared of some big scary creepy things, you're way wrong, Winchester. I'm a tough big girl. I'm not going anywhere." She told him.  
Good, he thought to himself. Right? He wanted her right beside him. Always.


	4. Anything- Chapter 4

Anything- Stella

She tossed another dress into the designated suitcase. A dress that needed matching shoes. Shoes she didn't own. Why the hell did she have a dress that didn't have any shoes to go with it? She took the dress back out of the suitcase.  
"Stella? What are you doing?"  
She looked at the door. Dean was leaning against the frame. "I have to go home for the week. There's this big...thing and I can't miss it. And Ryker's gone on some sort of self-finding journey out in the wilderness, so I don't have a date for anything. My mother is going to skin me alive." She was too stressed for this. She did not need this right now. "I'll be your date." Her heart jumped. Was he serious?  
"No you won't." She laughed, looking at her suitcase.  
"Yeah. I want to. I'll even let you take me shopping." She looked at him. Dean, in the Upper East Side for a week. With her.  
"Okay." And that was that. Was she a terrible person for being happy that Ryker decided to go off into the desert? Probably not. They were, after all, only friends. Just like her and Dean.

"You're really sure you want to do this?" She whispered.  
Dean gave her a look. "It's a little late to ask me that since we're already in New York and off the plane, Stella." She smiled brightly.  
"Oh look, Terrance is over there. Let's go." She grabbed his hand. She didn't know whether to let go or hold it harder. Terrance was holding up a sign that said: STELLA & CO.  
"Miss Hamilton. And friend." Terrance said, tucking the sign under his arm. "Is there anywhere you would like to go before I take you home? Your mother wants me to inform you that she and your father have flown to Paris for the weekend, so you have the house to yourself."  
Just her and Dean. Alone in a house. That had never happened. There was always Bobby or Sam or...something. She was determined to make this weekend the best weekend.

"So, what first? We can eat, sightsee, get you some clothes for the week. Anything you want to do." Stella said, hanging up a dress. Dean stared at her from her bed. "What's wrong?" She asked, shutting the doors to her closet.  
"This is where you live. You grew up in a million dollar neighborhood and you live in a Sioux Falls in a salvage yard. I don't get it." He said.  
"Because this was never the life I liked. I mean, it was nice and everything. But I just don't love it. And you're supposed to love the life you're living."  
"Okay, kid. Chill. Didn't need you going all Buddha on me." Dean laughed. "Pick what you want to do and we'll do it." He said. But this was her time to pamper him. He was supposed to choose. And he was, she supposed. He was leaving it up to her. "Show me how you rich people live and I will try to do as the Romans do."  
She grinned at him. This was going to be fun.

Dean stepped out of the dressing room. She could have swooned. Did people even swoon anymore? "You look...great." Yeah, great was a good word. Friendly. Dean looked breathtaking in a tuxedo. She wished he wore a tux every day.  
"You think so? I mean, I'm not big on these monkey suits..." He said, fiddling with the bow tie. She stood up. Poor thing couldn't tie a bow tie.  
"Here. Let me." She laughed. The heels made her taller than him. Her hands worked the tie and soon enough, it was a perfect bow. "Daddy lets me tie his all the time. I'm better at it than Mother. She tries to choke him." She smiled at him. "They're going to love you. Especially Mother. She's a sucker for guys like you, though you'd never know it with the guys she wants me to marry." She was rambling. Was it because they were so close?  
Dean smirked. "Guys like me? What does that mean?" He whispered.  
She was at a loss for words. He had never smirked at her before. "Uh. You know..." She stumbled over her words. What was she going to say? Attractive guys? Scruffy and tough? That would only inflate his ego. And maybe even imply that she felt some sort of way about him that he didn't need to know about. "Just uh, tough guys that are really sweet." She finally said. That was a decent answer.  
"You think I'm sweet?"  
Well, obviously. Because he was. Didn't he know that? No, she thought, this was Dean. Dean Winchester who was the most self-loathing person she knew. He put everyone else's needs in front of his, he basically raised Sam by himself and always took care of everyone. "Of course I do. No one else would have done this for me, dropped everything to come do this stupid socialite shit. It just...it means a lot." She said quietly.  
Dean put a hand on the side of her neck. His eyes. He had freakin' Disney princess eyes. Shades of green, specks of gold. Perfect, in another word. "I would do anything for you. You know that." Yes, she did. And she knew that she wanted to kiss him right then. But if she did, she would lose him. And she didn't want that to happen more than she wanted to kiss him.  
So she stepped back. "Alright. We're getting this tux. Now, for casual days..."

Stella sat the bags on Dean's floor in front of the closet. "Well, we've shopped til I literally wanted to drop. Are you hungry? It's a weekend so Ronaldo isn't here, but I can cook. But if you want to sleep, you can rest up and then I'll cook. It's whatever you want to do. I'm just here." She said. Why was she so bad at talking? She was never like this.  
"Stella, I don't care. But you're stomach has been growling for the past two hours. So you should probably cook." He told her. She nodded. "Please put on something more comfortable though. Those heels are killing me and I'm not even wearing them." He chuckled.  
Her feet felt fine. But they would start to ache soon. Better safe than sorry. She ventured to her bedroom and took her shoes off. She tossed them on her bed. She should probably change too. Pajamas would be nice. They weren't going anywhere else. She found a pair of socks and slipped them on her feet. She slipped the skirt and shirt off and slid into a nice comfy pair of teddy bear pajamas. Comfort pajamas reserved for break ups and bad days. Pajamas that hadn't been worn in years.  
She went down to the kitchen and turned the oven on. Dean was sitting at the counter, waiting. "I see you found your way." She noted proudly. He shrugged and said it wasn't as hard as he thought. "Pizza okay?" He said yes. She opened the freezer and took out an extra large frozen pizza. Ah, extra pepperoni. She took the wrapped off and slid it into the oven. She set a timer and hopped on the counter.  
"I'm very excited for this week." She said, smiling.  
"I though you hated this stuff." He frowned.  
She sighed deeply. "Oh, I do. Don't get me wrong about that. But it makes my mom happy and even though I can't stand her, I love seeing her happy. And I finally get to show you my life. Which brings me to a question that has been burning my soul. When are you going to take me on a case with you?" She asked.  
"Never." He said shortly. She raised her eyebrows. "Sorry. But it's not ever happening. It's not safe. People get hurt and people die. I'm not bringing you in to that, Stella. If you're the one person that I can protect from this, I can live with that. I can be happy knowing that I kept you out of that life."  
She shrugged. "It's okay. I get is. What you do is dangerous and you just have my best interest in mind." She could be perfectly reasonable. But he didn't know that she would go with them on a case someday. But best leave that alone for a while. They sat in a nice silence until the timer went off. She took the pizza from the oven and cut it into two halves. She gave Dean the bigger half.

The weekend passed by nicely. She gave him an itinerary of how the week would go. "Stella? We're home!" Ah, the sharp voice of her mother.  
"Do I look okay to meet your parents?" Dean whispered as they left her room. He didn't look like himself. Khaki dress pants, a button down and loafers. She nodded. Her parents were standing in the foyer, Terrance had their bags.  
"Oh. Who's this?" Georgia Hamilton's face was unreadable. For a first.  
Dean gave her mother an easy smile. "Dean Winchester, ma'am. It's a pleasure." Her mother's lips formed a glittering smile. Dean reached out to shake her father's hand. Her dad smiled too. It was going nicely.  
"Dean's my escort for the week." Stella explained. Her eyes scanned her mother's face.  
"I thought Ryker was escorting you." She didn't seem too worried though. She was staring at Dean intently. Stella said that Ryker couldn't make it. He had prior engagements. "Well, no matter. I think that Dean will make an excellent escort. The luncheon starts at two. We'll leave shortly. Go change into something more appropriate, Stella." Ah, there was the mother she knew and disliked extremely.  
"Dean, would you have a drink with me while we wait on our women? I've got an excellent batch of cognac in the parlor." Roger suggested. Dean looked at Stella and she nodded. Daddy never shared the cognac.  
"I won't be long. Promise." She smiled. She went to her room and changed into a floral dress that matched Dean's button down in a way. She slipped on a pair of yellow heels and was satisfied. But it was her mother's satisfaction that mattered. She found her father and her...Dean in the parlor, just about to open the cognac. "I'm ready. Shall we go?"  
Her father closed his eyes. "I tell you, Dean, she does this every time. Just as I'm about to open it, she shows up. She doesn't want me drinking this cognac." Stella smiled.

"Talia Abernathy hates me." Stella whispered. They had been abandoned by her parents long ago. Her mother had dragged her father off to speak to the mayor about some charity. They were standing close to the food.  
"How could anyone hate you?" Dean asked her.  
She snorted. "It's pretty easy actually. Her boyfriend dumped her for me. Obviously, I said no because he was just...no. She didn't understand that. Oh well, we were never really friends anyways." Dean offered to go get drinks and she let him.  
"Stella Hamilton. It has been a while." His voice sent chills down her spine. And not good ones. Ezra Rutherford. Heir to the Rutherford fortune and whatever his father's family did. It was an elusive job.  
"It has. And I'm sure that when I said if I never saw you again, it would be too soon. I believe I was right." She said stiffly. Ezra laughed hollowly. God, that laugh made her want to rip his voice box out.  
"I've missed you, Hamilton. Very much." He leaned over and whispered in her ear.  
Someone cleared their throat. "Stella, everything okay?" Dean. Bless his soul. Ezra stepped back and gave Dean a once over. Stella stared at Dean. His face was stubbly, his eyes piercing. He held two glasses in his hand filled with lemonade that probably had a little something else in it.  
"Everything is fine. Ezra was just saying hi and then leaving. Weren't you?" She said in an unbelievably even tone. Ezra said nothing before leaving. She took her glass from Dean and took a sip slowly. He was staring at her. "What?" She asked him.  
"Are you sure he was just saying hi? It looked...more intense than that." His voice was soft.  
She nodded. "I'm positive. I just...bad blood, you know? He's an ex and things didn't end well. I guess I took the breakup better than he did." She was being partly honest.  
He nodded. "The lemonade is spiked, by the way." He pointed out. She said it usually was. "Can I ask why things ended badly?"  
This wasn't something she wanted Dean to know. His temper was a lot like Ezra's, but he controlled it better. "He just wasn't a good boyfriend. We didn't get along well. That's all." He didn't need to know.

She stepped out of the bathroom. He was staring. "Well, does this look okay?" She asked. He didn't say anything. "I know it's short but I think it's just my legs. They're really long so everything looks short but it isn't that bad. I just really like the dress and think it looks nice."  
He stood up and walked over to her. "Stella. Why are you trying to explain? This dress looks amazing on you and you look beautiful."  
She smiled. He called her beautiful. "I uh...It's Ezra. He just...when we were together, I couldn't wear things like this. He didn't like it. Seeing him today brought back a lot of stuff that I've repressed for a long time."  
Dean stared back at her. "Did he hit you, Stella?" Oh no, she could hear it in his voice. The anger.  
"No, Dean. Of course not." It wasn't the first time she had lied to him. "He was just really controlling." Well, he was. At least that part was true. He frowned but said nothing else about it.  
"Well, you look amazing. Are you ready now?" He laughed lightly. She thought for a moment. Everything was done, she was dressed. She supposed she was ready. So she said yes. "And we're still meeting your parents there?" She said yes. "Then let's go."

"Let me go." She hissed.  
She had stepped out of the dining room for a breath of fresh air. She didn't go outside, the foyer was good enough. It was too crowded in the dining room, the noise was static. She had quickly realized why she had left this life. It was too much.  
"I know why you came back. You wanted to make me jealous. Well, it worked, Stella. I'm jealous." He told her. She tried to jerk her arm free but he wouldn't let her go.  
"Ezra, let me go. You're hurting me." This wasn't happening. Not again. "Please, just let me go. They're going to start wondering where I am." She whispered.  
He stared at her. What had she ever seen in him? But then again, he hadn't been like this when they first got together... "Take me back, Stell. Just give me another chance. I still love you."  
It was the same every time. Not again. Never again. "Ezra, let me go."  
He shoved her against the wall. "Listen to me, you bitch. We're getting back together. So tell your sewer rat boyfriend to take a hike. You're moving back to New York to live with me." He snarled.  
His grip was tight around her wrists. She could feel his breath on her face. And then, he was feet away from her. Dean was standing behind him, a pissed off look on his face. "What the hell is going on out here?" He growled, his hand around the back of Ezra's neck.  
Stella stayed against the wall. "Nothing. Ezra was just...he was just..." She couldn't find the words she needed to lie. It had been so easy once, covering for him.  
"I was just telling her how much I missed her." Ezra said easily. He tore himself away from Dean and brushed himself off. "I'll see you later, Stells." He gave her the smirk that she used to think was charming but now she realized it was malicious. Ezra left them alone.  
Dean looked at her, his face a mixture of emotions. "Stella, you gotta tell me what's going on. What is happening with you two?"  
She rubbed her wrists. They were starting to turn a bruising color. Damn it. "I...Dean." Every rational part of her was screaming to tell him but she knew better. Dean would kill Ezra. He grabbed her gently by the shoulders.  
"You can tell me, kid. You know that." His voice was nothing like Ezra's was. It was comforting. It was warm.  
She closed her eyes. "I lied to you, earlier today. About Ezra. He was a really bad boyfriend, Dean. He used to hit me, a lot. He was just...I was so scared all the time. He put me in the hospital twice. He broke my collarbone and he 'helped' me down the stairs. I finally told my parents. They got a restraining order, but I guess it's expired now. I just...I didn't think he would still be around."  
His fists were clenched at his sides. "I swear to God, Stella. Why the fuck didn't you tell me earlier? Jesus." He was more than pissed. He was...she didn't have words for it.  
"Take me home, Dean. Will you please take me home?" She whispered quietly.  
He stared back at her. "Yeah. Of course I'll take you home. Then I'll come back and beat the living shit out of that bastard."

She had taken her makeup off, brushed out her hair and now it was the decision between the teddy bear pajamas or something else. Was this occasion worthy of the teddy pajamas? She sighed and looked out the window. Manhattan was beautiful at night. People's nights were just beginning, the fun was about to start. She remembered when that had been her life. And then Dartmouth happened. And then Willow died and she met Bobby. And then she met Dean.  
"Shit, Stella. I'm sorry. I didn't know you weren't...decent." She turned. Dean was standing in the doorway, two bowls of ice cream in his hand. Not decent, indeed. Nearly naked.  
"It's fine. Just ah, wait a second. I'll put some clothes on." He turned around so he wouldn't have to stare at her. Wasn't she attractive to him? Probably not. She wasn't his type. Not that it mattered. She ditched the teddy pajamas and opted for sweat pants and a tee shirt. "Okay. I'm decent." She laughed.  
He turned back around and stepped into the room. "I brought ice cream. Chocolate and strawberry." He offered her a bowl. She took it from him and they sat on the bed. "I swear, this is the comfiest bed I've ever been on." He told her. She loved her bed. It was heaven in a mattress.  
"Thanks for this." She held up the bowl. He shook his head and said it was no problem. She dug the spoon around a little bit. "I'm sorry I burdened you earlier. That's a part of my life I try to repress."  
He sat his bowl on the nightstand. "Stella, listen to me. You can tell me anything, I want you to know that. I don't care about your past or how much I want to kill your ex boyfriends. The only thing that matters to me is if you're safe."  
Stella swirled her finger around in her ice cream. She looked at Dean. And then swiped her ice cream covered finger across his face. He stared at her in awe. She grinned back. "Things were getting deep. Had to lighten the mood." She giggled. He shook his head and got up. "Where are you going?" She pouted.  
"To get this stuff off my face before it dries." He told her. He disappeared into the bathroom and came out seconds later with a clean face. He sat back down and she put her bowl beside his.  
There was still a speck of chocolate ice cream beside his mouth. "You missed a spot." She said softly. Stella reached over and used the pad of her thumb to wipe it away. He grabbed her wrist carefully and their eyes met. Slowly, he licked the ice cream from her thumb. She pulled away from him.  
"I should go." Dean said suddenly. And like that, it was gone. It dissolved. He stood up. "I'll take these bowls down to the kitchen and get them washed." He picked the bowls up and headed towards the door. She stood up and wrung her hands together. He got to the door and stopped. She inhaled. He put the bowls on the dresser and turned around. "No. It doesn't happen like this. This isn't how it goes." She exhaled. He walked towards her and grabbed her by the waist.  
"Dean." She said quietly.  
"Shut up, Stella." He murmured. And then it happened. He kissed her. There were no fireworks. No explosions. It was just...peaceful.  
His hands were tight on her waist, like he was trying not to let her go as hard as possible. His lips were just as she had imagined they would be. Her hands were in his hair.  
She pushed him away. "We can't. This...this isn't us." She told him.  
"No one ever said that." He replied.  
He wasn't wrong. No one ever said that about them. His fingers were tickling her arms. This was her one chance. Her one chance for Dean Winchester. Carpe Diem. Or, Carpe Dean. She grabbed him by the neck and kissed him.

She woke up to Dean's fingers tracing patterns. He was shirtless. And in her bed. "Mornin' sleepin' beauty." He smiled at her. She buried her face in the pillow.  
"What time is it?" She mumbled. He said it was probably around ten. Not too bad. She looked at him. "Did we really...?" She asked. He nodded. "I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened."  
He sat up. "What is that supposed to mean? You didn't want it to happen?"  
She wrapped the sheet around her chest. "That isn't what I meant, Dean and you know it. I just...I don't know. I didn't think...I never thought that you wanted me like this." She got out of the bed, letting the sheet fall. "I should shower. Do you want to do anything today?" She asked him.  
He moved across the bed to get closer to her. He smirked at her. "I can think of a few things I want to do today. And one of them is standing in front of me." It sent tingles across her body. He pulled her down on top of him. His lips caressed her neck. "Let's stay here forever."

Stella Hamilton had a problem. Or rather, she had several problems but she was only focusing on one. A dress for the gala tomorrow night. "Stella, are you even listening?" Her shopping companion basically snapped.  
Stella blinked and turned to look at the girl. "Oh. India, I'm sorry. I was just thinking and I must have spaced. I'm sorry. You were saying something about Silas?" Stella gave her old friend her full attention.  
India sighed quietly. "Should I break up with him? This is the third time he's cheated on me." Stella closed her eyes. Goodness.  
"This year?" She asked.  
"No. In the past four months." Oh lord.  
She sat down beside India Arlington and grabbed her friend's hands. "India, listen to me. Silas does not deserve you. You can do so much better than him, I swear. If he cheats on you, he does not love you. Break up with his sorry ass now. Text him and tell him that it is over. Now." She told her sternly.  
"But-." India started. Stella put her hand over India's mouth.  
"No. Do not make excuses for him. He is a scumbag piece of shit. I'm going to find you a new, hot, amazing date for tomorrow night. In fact, I already have someone in mind."  
India took her phone out and started typing in a manner that was typical of her. "There. It's done." She hit send. Stella smiled at her. Screw Silas Randall and his dick. "Now, to help you." India decided.  
Stella snorted. "I don't need any help. I need a dress." She said.  
India pulled her to her feet. "Well, I think you've been so stuck on a thought that you can't find a dress. So I have to get you unstuck on that thought."  
Stella liked India. She wasn't like everyone else. She was not old money. India's father had struck gold in their home state. Soon after, he moved their Southern idol family to Manhattan. When he enrolled India into Stella's prep school, no one talked to her. She was different. Stella originally talked to India because she felt bad for her. But then she actually started to like her. India was, surprisingly, welcomed into Stella's group of friends with open arms and warm smiles. And that was that.  
"So, who is he?" India grinned. Stella asked her what she was talking about. "The guy you're stuck on. Who is he?"  
She clenched her fists. Dean. "He's this guy I've been staying with for a while, since I left Dartmouth really. Ryker skipped out on me for the week so he offered to escort me. I guess I've had a thing for him for a bit and last night...Ezra got me alone and Dean, he helped me." The mere thought of him, just saying his name, gave her tingles.  
"And then you had amazing, mind blowing, once in a lifetime sex." India finished. Stella's cheeks went hot, but she nodded. "Now what? Where is he?"  
Stella frowned. When she had left, Dean was still asleep. It was well past lunch time now, he should be awake already. But just in case, she didn't want to call and wake him up. "He was asleep when I left earlier. I suppose I'll see him when I'm home later."  
"But he's your date to gala tomorrow, right?" Stella said absolutely. He was even wearing a tux, which he hated. India was grinning from ear to ear. "I am so happy for you, Stella. I know you had a hard time after Ezra and I am just overjoyed that you're finally happy."  
Stella knew that India was making too big a deal of it. She had only slept with Dean twice and they never spoke about it. They probably never would. "We need dresses before you start planning my wedding, India." She laughed.

Carefully, very carefully, she hung the dress in her closet. "What, I don't get to see it?" Dean was leaning in the doorway. Stella turned to smile at him but it fell as soon as she saw him. He had his luggage.  
"You're leaving?" She sounded more hurt than she had intended.  
He dropped the luggage and walked towards her. "I'll be back before tomorrow night. I just have to go help Sam in Jersey. He thought he could handle it, but it's gotten a little nasty. Bobby's working another case so I'm the only option. I promise I'll be back in time for the gala." He explained.  
He could handle it, especially with Sam. And it wouldn't take long. She trusted him. Obviously. "Okay. Just uh, just be careful, okay?" He smiled at her.  
"I always am, kid." Kid. And just like that, it was back to normal. Last night and that morning had never happened. Weakly, she smiled. His hands held her by the neck and chin carefully. And then they were kissing. He pulled away from her. "I may need a little good luck." He grinned. He stepped away and picked up his luggage. "See you and that dress tomorrow." He smirked.  
She nodded.  
He would be back. Dean didn't break promises.

Stella was not hungry. She had not touched her breakfast, nor did she want to. Her mind was only on the gala. Or, she tried to keep it only on the gala. She was trying not to think of Dean. Who could be okay or who could be lying in the hospital again. She was not going to call because she trusted that he would be back for the gala.  
"Stella, why haven't you eaten? You need to eat." Her mother appeared, tightening a robe around her body. "Eat." Georgia told her.  
Stella moved her fork around the plate and stabbed a piece of egg. "Happy?" Stella asked darkly.  
Georgia rolled her eyes. "Where is the handsome Dean this morning? I expected to see him with you this morning."  
Stella looked at her mother. She needed a lie, not a great one, but a lie. "His younger brother got sick. He just went back to check on him and he's going to be back in time for tonight."  
Georgia raised her eyebrows. "Whatever you say, Stella. Make sure you're ready by six fifteen. We have to get there before seven. Also, India Arlington is here. She seems to believe the two of you are getting ready together."  
She forgot about India. What a great friend she was. Stella rapidly finished her breakfast and raced up to her room. India was sitting on the bed, flipping through a magazine. She looked up.  
"Well, there you are! I've been here for like, five minutes!" India stood up. "Where's the mystery man? I'm dying to meet him."  
And just like that, the lie spilled out again.

Stella checked her phone again. Nothing. No call, no text. She sent another text. Text number fifteen. Where was he? It was nearly seven thirty.  
"Stella, you have to put your phone away. It's almost time." India told her. Stella sighed and tossed her phone on the couch. "You look amazing." India smiled at her.

"Presenting Miss Stella Hamilton, daughter of Georgia and Roger Hamilton. Miss Hamilton is escorted by Mr. Dean Winchester." Stella's grip on the banister was tight. It was her lifeline. Subtly, her eyes scouring the bottom of the stairs. She didn't see him. He wasn't there. Her heart plummeted to the ground.  
Stella Hamilton stood at the bottom of the giant staircase. Alone. And then. The crowd parted and she could hear the quiet but forceful "Excuse me," "I need to get through please."  
Like her knight in shining armor, her oldest friend stepped in front of her and held out his arm. Almost crying, she smiled and looped her arm through his.  
"Sorry I'm late." He gave her the famous Ryker Carlisle smile.


	5. Bad Blood- Chapter 5

Bad Blood- Dean

Dean was working on the car when he heard the tires over gravel. He looked up just in time to see the white Toyota Sequoia drive by. She was home. It had been almost a week since he had last seen her. He had been too afraid to face her. He knew her temper when she was mad and he also knew that she would be furious with him.  
He watched her get out of the car and get her bags from the back. And then she went inside. He debated whether or not to go into the house in that moment. He decided not to.

Sam stopped him at the door. "Are you sure she's okay? She's really...chipper." Sam frowned.  
Dean shrugged. "Maybe she's...I don't know. I'll talk to her." He didn't understand why Sam was making a big deal of Stella being chipper. If she wasn't pissed, that was a extremely good thing. Sam let him pass and told him she was upstairs in her room.  
Her door was shut. And music was blaring. He opened the door slowly. She was dancing around her room, wearing only a t-shirt and well, that was it.  
"Dean? Hey." She gave him the biggest grin.  
He stepped in and shut the door. "Hey, kid."  
She twirled herself over to him and engulfed him in a hug. "I missed you, bastard." She whispered. He stepped away from her.  
"Are you okay, kid?"  
She rolled her eyes. "God, stop calling me that. I'm not a kid, Dean. I mean, yeah it's affectionate and kind of cute but jeez, it gets annoying." She told him. She licked her lips. "I'm sorry, Dean. I just...that nickname annoys me. It isn't exactly refreshing when we have the bond that we do." He stared at her. She leaned forward and stopped right before their lips touched. She shoved him backwards. He landed against the door and groaned.  
"What the hell?" She was standing ten feet away, smirking at him.  
"You know what's funny? You actually thought, for a second there, that she would kiss you. After what you did to her back in New York? God, Winchester, you're a riot."  
Not Stella. Really not Stella. A shifter. "Where the hell is she?" He growled.  
The shifter smiled. "Don't worry. Your precious little socialite is safe and sound. For now. And I'm betting you'll do anything to help her, won't you?"  
Dean stood up. "What do you want?" He asked.  
The shifter in Stella's body paced the room. "What do I want? How typical of you. You assume that I want something. When in reality, this is just a message. You Winchesters think you own the world now. Well, we're here to let you in on a little secret: you do not rule this world."  
Stella's face grinned back at him. "Oh and you thought I wanted something? I do. I'm giving you seventy two hours, that's three days by the way, to decide to quit hunting and come rescue your damsel in distress."  
"And if I don't?"  
Stella's fingers traced patterns on her neck. She acted as if she was going to slit her throat with her finger. "You will never see Stella Hamilton again. We will kill her. Rip her apart piece by piece. Record her screams and send them to you. Her death will be on your hands."

Dean packed hastily and he packed lightly. "Where are you going?" Sam asked him. Dean zipped his bag.  
"There's some shifters in Wisconsin. They've got Stella. I've got three days to get her back or they're going to kill her. But I have to quit hunting." He put the bag on his shoulder.  
"And you think you're going alone? She isn't just your friend, you know. She's mine too."  
Dean snorted. "She isn't my friend, Sam. I don't...I don't know what she is." Sam asked him what the hell that was supposed to mean. "We slept together. In New York. I have to get her back, Sam. She can't die because of me."  
"And she isn't going to. We'll get Bobby and we'll go to Wisconsin and get her back. And we will wipe out this shifter pack."  
Dean shook his head. "No. If I'm going to tell them I'm quitting hunting, then I have to act like it. We don't go in guns blazing. We have to take every precaution." Nothing could happen to her. Not because of him.

Dean knocked on the door to the warehouse loudly. Not half a second later, it was open. "Dean Winchester. We've been expecting you. Come in."  
"I brought my brother. Sorry if I don't trust you." Dean mumbled, walking into the warehouse, Sam behind him. The shifter stared at them. "Where is she?" Dean demanded.  
The shifter that was still masked as Stella pointed to a chair. And there was Stella. She was still wearing the dress she wore to the gala. The dress he should have seen over a week ago and was now seeing it for the first time. The black dress was ripped and torn, probably from where she had tried to escape so many times. He examined her face from where he stood. There were no marks or anything. They hadn't hurt her.  
Her mouth was gagged and her hands were tied to the chair.  
"Let her go and we'll talk business." Dean said to the shifter in Stella's skin. The other shifters stared at this one, who was apparently their leader. The shifter nodded and one of them went and untied her hands and took the gag from around her mouth. The shifter tried to help her up but she jerked away from him. And immediately went to Sam.  
Dean wasn't bothered. He knew that even this would not earn him grace back into her heart. Potentially saving her life would not earn him her forgiveness. She was not that easily swayed. "Let's talk business." The shifter said.  
"In your own skin." Dean stated. The shifter shed Stella's looks. Dean was surprised that the shifter in front of him was a woman. Her body was covered in severe burn scars.  
"A fire when I was young. You can see why I chose a beautiful young woman instead of staying in my own skin. And when I discovered that she had Winchester ties, I could not resist. It was too good a chance to pass up."  
"We don't want your life story." Sam growled. Dean acted like he didn't notice the way Stella had latched onto him. The shifter nodded and led them to a back room that had a table and chairs. Dean sat down across from the female shifter.  
"So, are you really going to quit hunting?" Dean said yes. He could feel her staring at him. He glanced, not turning his head. Stella was glaring at him. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"  
"We aren't." Dean said simply. The shifter raised her eyebrows. "We aren't hunting shifters anymore. You guys aren't that big of a problem for us anyways. We keep hunting the big bags like demons and vampires and maybe even a wendigo every now and then. But you guys, you're off the list. Does that sound like a good deal to you?"  
The head shifter stared at him. She had to take it. They couldn't just up and quit hunting. It was a life for them. A job. Especially for Dean. But not hunting shifters, it was no big deal. They weren't as big an issue as all the other monsters. "We have a deal. And we'll be keeping tabs on you. Sorry if I don't trust you." She said.  
Dean nodded and stood up. "Let's go." He told Sam. Sam followed him from the room, Stella beside him.  
"Thank you." She finally said to him. He asked her for what. "Saving me. I actually killed one of them a couple days ago. Or thought I did."  
She had almost killed a shifter. "Don't thank me yet. You aren't back in Manhattan yet."  
"What?"  
He looked at her as he walked. "We're taking you back to Manhattan. We'll ship your stuff from Bobby's to you in a couple days."  
She stopped walking. "I'm not staying there. I'm an adult, Dean. I can make my own decision and that's to stay at Bobby's."  
Dean stopped and stood in front of her. "When are you going to get it through your thick skull that being with us isn't safe? You could have died just for knowing us."  
She stared him down. "When you tell me you don't want me with you anymore, then I'll go." She sounded so confident about it. Like she knew he could never say it.  
But he had to. It was the only option left. "Fine. I don't want you with me anymore. I want you to be as far away from me as possible."  
She held her head proudly. "Good. Because I'm sick and tired of waiting fo-." The words never came out of her mouth.  
She was standing there, staring at him with a blank expression on her face, brown eyes wide. She gasped for breath, her hands on her stomach. The handle of a knife was sticking out.  
"Oh God."  
She fell to her knees.  
The shifter who had untied her was standing feet away. "Are we still not an issue now?" He asked.  
Dean stared at the head shifter, who looked like she was in shock. "Kill him." She ordered the others. Two shifters dragged the other out of the room.  
"Dean." Sam called out to him. Blood bubbled from Stella's mouth. "She isn't going to make it." Sam whispered.  
Dean got on the floor and took her hand. "I was lying, kid. You know I want you here, don't you? Who else am I gonna watch Game of Thrones with? Sam?"  
It got her to smile. A bloody, weak smile. "I was mad." She rasped. "When you didn't show up. I'm not over it but I understand why. It's okay. Ryker was there to save the day." She tried to laugh, but it didn't work.  
Dean nodded. "You're going to a good place, kid. I know a guy up there, I'll make sure he takes real good care of you. I think you'll like it." He told her.  
Her grip on his hand was failing. "Take care of each other. And Bobby. And don't tell my parents. Just let them think I'm somewhere happy." She whispered. They both nodded.  
"Of course, kid."  
She tried to inhale and coughed, blood coming from her mouth and nose. "It hurts." She told him. Dean looked at Sam and his brother nodded. They couldn't let her die in pain. Not like that, anyways. Dean used his free hand to yank the knife from her stomach. The blood flowed from the stab wound. Bleeding out was an easy way to die. She would just pass out and she wouldn't feel it anymore.  
It was silent. No one spoke. The only sound was Stella's ragged breathing. Dean didn't even realize it when she was gone. Not the exact moment, anyways. It took him a few seconds to realize that he no longer heard her struggling breaths.  
His face burned. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. He was more mad than anything. Mad at himself. Maybe if he had seen her in the dress a week ago...

All of the letters were piled up on the kitchen counter. They were all from a Mrs. Georgia Hamilton of Manhattan, New York. He did not have time for her. He wrote her an email occasionally, from Stella. They were vague and unassuming. But enough to keep Georgia Hamilton off his back.  
They buried her in the salvage yard under her favorite piece of crap car. She would have thought it was sentimental, maybe.  
He hadn't had a pie in over four months. He physically could not eat them. He had shut the door to her room and never looked at it again. The ragged black dress was laying on her bed. He put her in something nice to be buried in. A nice pink dress he had only seen her in once. It was modest and sometimes, she wore those kinds of things.

"Let's go. Case in Vermont. Shifters." Dean said, tossing his bag on the table. Sam looked at him. "Don't got all day, brother. Let's go."  
"How do you know it's shifters?" Sam asked.  
Dean shrugged. "I've had feelers out for a while. Asked everyone to keep an eye out for shifters. And Joey Treace says there's a pack up in Vermont."  
"Give me some time to pack." Sam mumbled.  
Dean grinned. "Already packed for you, little brother."

Dean's fingers drummed on the steering wheel. "We should talk. About Stella." Sam suggested. Dean said okay. "Did you love her?"  
Dean looked at his brother. "No. I did not love her. She was practically a kid, Sam."  
"A kid who you were constantly worried about and crushed on for almost three years. They say if a crush lasts for more than four months, it's love." Sam told him.  
Dean pulled over to the side of the road and turned the car off. "Sam. Listen. I didn't love her. But maybe I could have. Because I saw a future with her. I saw myself having a family with her. And now I can't. Now, all I want to do is kill shifters and feel something. I just want to feel something."  
"And killing shifters? That makes you feel something?" Dean said it made him feel alive again.

Dean went to another place when he killed a shifter. His mind blacked out and his body went on autopilot. For months, he had been living but not being alive. He had just been going through the motions of living. But when he got the chance to kill a shifter, to take life from the thing that took life from Stella, he felt alive again. It was like being underwater and then finally coming up for air.  
When everything became clear again, Sam was staring at him. There were four dead shifters on the floor.  
"Dude, what did you just go through?" Sam asked.  
He stared at his younger brother. "I don't know, man. It's like, therapeutic for me or something. I told you. It helps me feel again. Makes me feel alive."  
"I think you need a therapist."

Sam was right. He needed a therapist. So he got one. She was a nice lady whose name was Debra or something.  
"So, Dean, your brother has told me a lot about you. He mentioned there was a special someone in your life who died a few months ago." Sam said he had talked to this lady a couple times. She was nice and comforting. But Dean didn't want comforting. He didn't need it.  
"Stella. Her name was Stella." Debra wrote that down.  
"Tell me about her."  
So he told her. "I met her a few years back. She was taking a break from college because her roommate committed suicide. She moved in with us. I liked her the moment she opened her mouth. And she drank whiskey and I'm personally a whiskey person. I don't guess I ever saw it going anywhere because she was a lot younger than me. I called her jail bait and kid, a lot. She was a hell of a cook. She made the best damn pies and she was so torn up about them. They had to be perfect. And she was from Manhattan. She was the socialite who just hated it."  
Debra stopped him there. "A socialite? Wouldn't this have been on the news?"  
Dean said no. "No one knows she's dead. Only me, you, my brother and our uncle."  
"Don't you think her family deserves to know their daughter is dead?"  
He said yes. "She didn't want them to know. Her last wish was for them to think she was living her life, being happy. So I write them emails and pictures of pies I find on the internet." It was pretty sad of him to do, he would admit. But this way, at least she was still alive to some people.  
"I want you to tell me how Stella died, Dean. Can you do that?"  
Of course he could. He had perfected the cover story. "She was mugged. We were leaving a bar one night and she walked out before I did. When I came out of the bar, I saw her falling to the ground and this guy running off. I knew she wasn't going to make it. I took her home and made her as comfortable as possible." It was believable.  
Debra the therapist bought it. "And how have you felt since that night?"  
He told her the truth. "I haven't felt like myself, Doc. I'm just running through the motions. I eat, sleep, work on my car. I try not to think about her but at the end of the day, she's on my mind. I think about her freaking doe eyes and the way they stared at me when I took that first bite of pie. I think about her trying to help me change the oil in my car. How cold her hands and feet were every night when she'd crawl into my bed because we couldn't sleep without each other. How I don't watch Game of Thrones because there's no one to watch it with me. I think about how good it felt to finally kiss her the week before she died. And how she must have felt at her gala when I wasn't there to escort her even though I promised her I would be there. And I think about what she was thinking before she died. Before everything went black for her. And I think about where she is know and if she's happy and really in a better place."  
These were the thoughts that plagued him at the end of days when he was laying in the bed, trying to sleep but it wouldn't come and all he saw was the knife in her stomach and blood coming from her mouth. When all he heard was jagged breathing and then silence and he hadn't even realized she was gone until it was too late to say good-bye.  
"Dean, did you love Stella?"  
He said no. But he sure as hell could have.


	6. Life and Death- Chapter 6

She left the gala in a slightly better mood than when she arrived. Sure, Dean had not shown up but he was a hunter. Not dependable. And Ryker had saved her. That was okay. They danced. She laughed. She had fun. Georgia Hamilton was in good spirits. Which was rare and good.  
She was walking out when she was grabbed. A very small part of her thought it was Dean. But the rational part knew better. This was not good. She tried to scream but a hand went over her mouth. No, a rag. A foul smelling rag. Her vision went blurry and everything was gone.

When she woke, she was tied to a chair, staring at a woman who looked exactly like her. The woman was staring down at her coldly. "God, you're beautiful. Now I see why Dean Winchester is in love with you." What? "He's on his way to rescue you right now. He must love you a lot to give up hunting."  
Dean was giving up hunting? For her? She would have said more if the rag hadn't been put back in her mouth.

"Where is she?"  
Stella looked up from the floor. Dean was standing in front of the door, Sam behind him. He had a gruff look on his face. He came. He really came for her. If they got out of this alive, she was going to kiss him. And then punch him.  
The monster who had been her keeper for the past week untied her after the leader approved it. The monster tried to help her up but she jerked away from him. As soon as she was standing straight, she took off. Sam's arms were around her instantly. "You're okay. It's going to be okay." He told her. She hoped he was right.  
"Let's talk business." The monster in charge suggested. Dean said they would do it when she was in her own skin. Whatever the hell that meant. Stella watched in disgust and the monster in her skin shed it like a coat. It was a woman underneath the disguise. With severe burns.  
Stella zoned out but let Sam lead her to the back room. He helped her sit in a chair. He put her in between himself and Dean.  
"So, are you really going to quit hunting?" The monster asked Dean. He said yes. She couldn't help but feel angry about this. Hunting was his life. It was Sam's life. And they were giving it up. For her. She hated it. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"  
"We aren't." He said. "We aren't hunting shifters anymore." Shifters. These monsters were shifters. "You guys aren't that big of a problem for us anyways. We keep hunting the big bads like demons and vampires and maybe a wendigo every now and then. But you guys, you're off the list. Sound like a good deal?"  
Coming from Dean, that was the best deal. She should have known they would never quit hunting. The head shifter agreed. "Good. Let's go." Dean said. He stood up. She and Sam followed him from the room.  
Speak now, she told herself. "Thank you. For saving me. I actually killed one of them the other day. Or I thought I did." She said softly.  
"Don't thank me yet. You aren't back in Manhattan yet."  
What? "What?"  
"We're taking you back to Manhattan. We'll ship your stuff in a couple days." He was so nonchalant about it.  
"I'm an adult, Dean. I can make my own decisions. And my decision is to stay at Bobby's." She told him.  
He stopped, standing in front of her, an angry expression on his face. "When are you going to get it through your thick skull that being with us isn't safe? You could have died just for knowing us."  
She couldn't break his gaze. She didn't want to. "When you tell me you don't want me with you anymore, then I'll go." He couldn't say it. She knew it. And he wouldn't. He would realize she was safest with them.  
"Fine. I don't want you with me anymore. I want you to be as far away from me as possible." He finally said.  
Her throat seized. He said it. He didn't want her. She swallowed her words and kept her posture. Just as her mother had taught her. "Fine. Because I'm sick and tired of waiting fo-." She didn't feel it at first. And then it hurt. Bad. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open. Everywhere in her abdomen hurt. It burned. She gasped for a breath she couldn't get. Her hands grabbed at her stomach searching for the source of the pain. The tip of her finger grazed the cold touch of metal.  
She looked down.  
A knife was lodged in her stomach.  
She fell to her knees. Her head was swimming. Someone was talking but it was background noise. She could hear her own heart beating. Warm, thick liquid bubbled in her mouth. Blood.  
"Dean." Sam called. "She isn't going to make it." Death. She was dying. She felt Dean's hand curl around hers. He helped her lay on the ground, her head resting in Sam's lap. Sam ran gentle fingers through her hair. She always loved someone playing with her hair.  
"I was lying, kid. You know I want you here, don't you? Who else am I gonna watch Game of Thrones with? Sam?"  
She smiled weakly. "I was mad." She tried to say. It came out in a raspy tone that didn't even sound like hers. "When you didn't show up. I'm not over it but I understand why. It's okay. Ryker was there to save the day." Why did she say that? She was lying on her deathbed. And still trying to make Dean Winchester jealous. She could have laughed at her audacity. If she could.  
"You're going to a good place, kid. I know a guy up there. I'll make sure he takes good care of you. I think you'll like it." He promised her. Dean knew an angel? He was talking about an angel, right?  
She was getting weaker. Dying sucked. But she was ready. She had lived a good twenty three years. Only child, Manhattan socialite, fashion icon to the young women of the Upper East Side, Dartmouth dropout, basic housewife to three grown men. Yeah. A good life. At least she would die happy. "Take care of each other. And Bobby. And don't tell my parents. Just let them think I'm somewhere happy." She told them.  
"Of course, kid." Dean told her.  
She tried to breathe but she couldn't. She coughed, blood spurting from her nose and mouth. "It hurts." She whispered. She had never complained about something hurting. She had learned not to a long time ago. But bruises and broken bones were nothing compared to a fatal stab wound. Ezra Rutherford had nothing on a shifter.  
The pain was gone. Dean was holding the knife in his hand.  
It was silent. She hated silence. It was deafening. She relived her best night in her mind. She was a drunken mess, Sam, Dean and Bobby along with her. They were taking shots but it ended badly.  
She wanted to kiss Dean again. Just once more. She hadn't kissed him enough. She hoped he found someone. Someone who could curb his drinking habit and make him realize how good a person he was. She wanted Sam to find someone. And Bobby and that Sherriff Mills to get together already. But she couldn't say these things because she didn't have the energy.  
She was so tired. Ready to sleep. But she knew if she closed her eyes, they would never open again. And she was okay with that.

She didn't exactly recalled when she had drifted off. She only knew that one second she was staring at Dean, and the next, she was staring at a bright light. She was staring at _the light._ And as much as she wanted to go into it, find eternal peace or whatever that bullshit was, she couldn't. Maybe she had unfinished business. Or maybe she wasn't ready to let go. Or maybe, just maybe, she wasn't done living.

She spent her time watching over her parents. It was blissful life for them still. They were not plagued by the knowledge that their daughter was dead. Her mother was reading an email to her father. And email from her.  
"Roger, listen. Stella says she misses us and she's grateful for us. I swear, she gets more and more sappy in every email. If she was truly grateful, she wouldn't have gotten those trashy tattoos." Her mother stated. Stella smiled to herself. Some things never changed. "I wonder why she hasn't written Ryker back yet, though. He says he's been emailing, calling and texting her ever since she left and she's never replied. Not once."  
Her father sighed. "How many times do we have to go through this, Georgia? Stella is clearly in love with that Dean fellow. And frankly, I would rather it be him than Ryker. If Dean makes her happy, leave it alone. Now, email her back and ask when we're getting invited to the wedding."  
Her father thought she was in love with Dean. Nothing amused her more.  
And then she was with Dean. He was nursing a glass of whiskey. She had avoided thinking about Dean since she died. If she thought about him, she was with him and nothing hurt more than seeing him. So she had simply avoided him entirely. Avoiding him was not easy though. There was a constant pull to be with him. She fought it hard and angrily because she did not want to see him.  
But now here she was, with him.  
He was sitting at the foot of the bed, his head leaned back. "Kid, wherever you are, I miss you." He was talking to her. She knew he couldn't see her or hear her. He and Sam had explained countless times how the ghost thing worked. It would take her a very long time to be able to interfere with the physical world. But the longer she stayed, the more violent she would become. And she didn't want to hurt them.  
"I should have tried to save you. At least you wouldn't have died in a freaking warehouse. I've been thinking about trying to fix things. To bring you back but I know that isn't what you would have wanted. But damn, sometimes it's too much. You've only been gone a few weeks but it feels like forever." He stopped to take a drink. "If you're in Heaven, watch out for the angels. They can be real dicks sometimes."  
"Is this the first time you've seen him since you died?" Someone could see her. The man stared at her, eyebrows raised. "Yes, I can see you. I'm usually not this straightforward about it, but since you know Dean..."  
He knew who Dean was? "Who are you?"  
"My name is Will. I'm here to help you." Help her? She didn't need help. She was fine. Other than being dead. "I'm supposed to guide you into the light. Why didn't you go when you died?" Stella said she didn't want to leave. She didn't want to let go. "I know it's hard to let go. I understand." He said.  
"Are you going to force me to go into the light? Because if you are, you can save your breath. I'm not going." She stated. Now that she was here, with Dean, she wanted to stay.  
The man looked at her and smiled. "No. I want to help you. My job is technically to take you into the light but I've been hired by someone to make sure that doesn't happen to you. You're supposed to stay here until my boss says otherwise." She wasn't sure whether she liked the sound of that or not. But this option left her here, with Dean. It gave her the chance to grow her ability and interact with him. To watch over him. The other option made her leave him. And she didn't want to leave.  
"I want him to see me." She told Will. He nodded and said that soon, he would.

Stella and Will had been at the salvage yard for a week. Or she thought it was a week. Time passed differently through the Veil. That's what Will said it was called, anyways.  
"Why has there always been something pulling me here? I had to fight to stay away." She asked. Will was flipping his wrist every so often to look through one of Dean's magazines. His porno magazine.  
"Your body's buried here. And Dean probably has something of yours. A bracelet, necklace...something special that he would want to keep." What would Dean have of hers that he would keep on him at all times? She hardly ever wore jewelry so that was a no. But there was...In a second, she was in the kitchen, frantic enough that she was opening drawers just by thinking about it.  
"What are you looking for?" Will asked her.  
It wasn't in its spot. It was gone. She could feel it. "I wore an apron. I always wore it when I was cooking or baking. It's gone. That has to be it." She told him. He asked her why an apron would be so special to keep her tied. "It was my grandmother's. She left it to me in her will. And Dean...he loved it. He always said I looked like the perfect housewife when I wore it." The thought was enough to make her want to cry. But ghosts didn't cry. So she was left with her throat feeling tight, her nose burning and her eyes trying to water but they wouldn't.  
"You interacted with the physical plane. You're getting stronger. Soon enough, you'll be able to be visible. To actually touch things." He told her.  
To touch something again. To feel something. What she would give for that. For Dean to see her. To talk to him. To have him hear her.  
"I don't want to be like the ghosts that they get rid of. I don't want to be vengeful, an animal." She whispered.  
Will put a hand on her shoulder. "What do you want?"  
"I want to be alive." Death did not suit Stella Kate Hamilton in the least bit.

She sat in the sunlight in the playground. She couldn't feel the heat. Only the cold. She should have felt the intense heat of the sun rays beaming down on her, the flow of happiness from the children around her. But all she felt was cold and empty.  
Her eyes opened. Will was standing above her. "How do you feel?" He asked her.  
"Empty. I don't understand why we're here. I want to go back to Dean." They hadn't been to the salvage yard in days. It took all of her strength to be away. But they were only a few minutes away, still in Sioux Falls.  
"Children are the easiest to communicate with. Their eyes aren't blind yet. They believe, so they see." They would see her. Finally. It would feel good to be seen again. "Just focus all of your energy on being visible. Make them see you. It's all you want to be seen."  
It was all she wanted. To be noticed again. To be seen. Heard.  
And then he saw her. The little boy. He was staring at her. Right at her. Her face broke out in a smile. And then the boy was looking around. Like he had seen a ghost.  
"What happened?" She asked Will. He told her she lost her focus and disappeared.  
"You have to keep your focus. Remember that. Especially if you want Dean to see you."

"Why are you helping me, Will? You don't know me. And I don't think you know Dean either." They were playing cards. Every so often, she would flicker back to Bobby's, just to replenish her energy and then back to Will she went. She was strong. And she liked it.  
"My boss knows the Winchesters well. He wants to help them, you would say. But Dean Winchester isn't much help when he's drowning his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey and Sam Winchester is trying to make sure his brother doesn't die. And what my boss wants, he needs both of them for. So helping you helps him, in the end. You aren't just a charity case. You have a purpose."  
No, she didn't. Not by the sound of it. "No I don't? I don't really matter to you. You aren't helping me from the good of your heart. Do I really want to interact with Dean if it helps your boss? What if he's not really their friend?" She stood up, dropping her cards.  
Will stared up at her. "You're right. I'm not. And that's fine. If you want to stop, you can. But Dean will always be wondering about you. He'll never know for sure if you really crossed over. Don't you want him to know you're okay? Don't you want him to see you?" More. Than. Anything.

He was staring right at her. No. Right through her. He was where she found him the first time. At the foot of his bed in the floor, a full bottle of whiskey in his hand. There was a gun on the bed. Shiny, like new. Dean liked cleaning his guns after a case.  
"Sammy suggested I go to a therapist. So I did. The last thing she asked me was if I was in love with you." The L word. She had never thought about being in love with Dean. And she knew he never thought about even liking her. For him, she was almost jail bait. A young, physically attractive woman who cooked good pie and lived with him. They had sex once and that was that. For him. She did not know what she felt in life. But in death, she knew that she felt...something. Dean was not just the extremely attractive older guy she had to crawl into bed with every night just to sleep. He was her best friend. Her Game of Thrones partner. Her pie taster. Her...Dean. "I said no. Of course I said no. Who keeps coming up with the idea that we were in love with each other? You barely tolerated me sometimes. I was in love with your pies though. Sometimes, I don't know what I miss more. You or the food." He was trying to joke, make light of the situation. Typical Dean move.  
He popped the bottle open and took a large swig. She sat down beside him. God, she missed whiskey.  
"I haven't even looked at Game of Thrones since then, I swear." He laughed. "I can't do anything, kid. Sammy says I don't function right anymore. He thinks I lost part of myself when you died. Maybe he's right. Who the hell knows. All I know is that I feel like I'm drowning and I can only come up for air when I'm killing a shifter." He took another drink. A long drink.  
She closed her eyes. "I am so sorry." She whispered.  
"You know, when I first saw you, the thought that went through my head was _damn that's a fine piece of ass._ You were so much more than that though. You were just...magical. A good person to drink with. You were a good drunk. Always laughing, smiling. Damn, kid, your smile could light up the world. And your laugh, hell, better than Metallica. And that's saying something." Yes, it was. Dean loved his Metallica. But he liked her ass. That was nice.  
Dean took another drink. And another. And he finished the bottle without saying anymore. And then he was crying. Dean Winchester was actually crying. Over her. Stella licked her lips. "Everything is going to be okay. Soon, you'll see me again. I'm getting stronger, for you." She let her hand hover over his cheek, his stubbly cheek. Stubble that had grazed over every part of her body. The cheek that had rested against hers.  
"It'll be alright." He said suddenly. "I'm probably being melodramatic or whatever but I can't fucking take this anymore, Stella." Shit was about to go down. Stella was not her name to him. She was kid. "I'll see you soon, kid."  
What?  
She watched as he tossed the bottle across the room and took the gun from the bed. What was he doing? He toyed with the gun for a long few minutes. If her heart was still beating, it would have been racing.  
He put the gun to his head.  
Oh. Shit.  
His finger was on the trigger.  
No. No. No.  
Not Dean.  
He couldn't die. Not because of her.  
 _Focus. You want to be seen. You have to be seen. It is all that matters. Be seen, be heard. Make him see you._  
She reached out.  
His finger was pushing the trigger back.  
Cold metal met flesh.  
She gripped the gun tightly and jerked it back.  
"Not today, bastard." She growled.  
His eyes opened.  
He turned.  
"Stella?"  
He was staring at her. Not through her. At her. His eyes on her eyes. She grinned, unable to keep the laugh back.  
"You can see me. Shit, you can see me!"  
The gun fell to the floor. She threw her arms around his neck. He could see her. She could feel him. Slowly, his arms wrapped around her. His hands gripped her.  
"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this moment." She whispered. He asked her long she had been there. "A very, very long time. My friend, Will, he's been helping me get stronger so I could interact with you."  
He pulled away from her. "Why didn't you go into the light, Stella? You know you can't be here. You belong in the light? I cannot and will not salt and burn you."  
"Dean, this place sucks ass. The Veil sucks. You just stand around, watching life go on without you. But I couldn't leave. I was with my parents for a while and then I just got pulled here. My apron's been keeping me here. You don't know what it's like. All I want is to feel the sun again. To breathe in fresh air. To cook pies. To crawl into bed again. To be here. I just want to be alive again. I wasn't ready to die." She said softly.  
His green eyes weren't readable. "No one is ready to die, kid. But you have to go into the light."  
He wanted her to leave. But she had done what she wanted. So it was okay. She looked around the room. Where was it?  
"What are you looking for?" He asked her. It wasn't there.  
"The light." She frowned. "It isn't here. It's always here, waiting for me. Everywhere I am, it's with me. But I don't see it." He asked her if she just was missing it. "Dean, it's a big bright light. You don't miss it." She rolled her eyes. When she looked back, his eyes were wide. "What?"  
"You're flickering. Why?"  
She looked at herself. Her body was flickering. But she was focused on being seen. She had perfected the focus days ago. "I feel faint. Like...like I'm dying all over again."  
It all went black.


	7. Alive and Well- Chapter 7

"Sam, I saw her." Dean insisted for the tenth time that day. His younger brother stared at him. "I swear. She was there. I talked to her. And then she was gone."  
"You're grieving, man. And I understand that. But you were about to kill yourself. Is the therapist not helping you any?" Sam asked him. Dean knew that Sam had been hoping that pouring his feelings out to some 'doctor' would help. And it was.  
Until he saw her.  
She was still in the gala gown she had died in, except it were clean. She had looked perfect. As always. Seeing her again in those first few seconds had really convinced him that he was crazy. Maybe he was. But he had talked to her. And then she was just gone.  
"We gotta do something, Sammy. She's still here, somewhere. She's in the...the Veil, I think. She won't move on. And there's no way I'm saltin' and burnin' that kid."  
Sam shut his laptop and stared at him. "You're sure she's still around?" Dean nodded. He was sure. "I guess we better give Pamela a call then..."

"Boys, I can honestly say I didn't expect a call from you two anytime soon." Pamela said, walking through the door. Dean helped her to sit at the already prepared table.  
"We got ourselves in a little predicament, Pamela." Sam said slowly. She raised her eyebrows and asked for an explanation.  
Dean licked his lips. "Well. A friend of ours died a few months ago. And I saw her ghost the other day. I talked to her. We hugged. And then she disappeared. She said that the Light wasn't there anymore. I need to know what happened. Can you find her?"  
Pamela laughed. "Can I find her? Course I can find her, sugar. It's just a matter of if she's a wanting to talk." Dean assured her that a conversation would be wanted. "Alright then. You boys know the drill. Circle up." The three of them sat at the table and held hands. Pamela said she needed a name.  
"Stella. Her name is Stella." Dean said.  
"More specific." Pamela said. Dean gave her full name. He felt Pamela's hand relax in his. "Focus everything on her. Just picture her." She instructed. "Stella Kate Hamilton, if you are in the Veil, I would like for you to come forth to me. My name is Pamela. I'm with Sam and Dean Winchester." It was silent. "Stella? Stella Hamilton? Are you there, Stella? Sam and Dean want to speak with you." Nothing. "Stell-." She stopped herself. "Oh. Oh, I see. Yeah, I'll tell them. Of course, thank you." Pamela took her hands away, breaking the circle.  
"What? You'll tell us what?" Dean asked immediately, opening his eyes.  
"Stella is no longer in the Veil. She's moved on."  
Dean's brow furrowed. Moved on? But she said that the Light wasn't there. "She couldn't see the Light, Pamela. I don't understand how she could go into the Light when she doesn't know where it is!" He slammed his hand on the table.  
"Dean." Sam warned.  
Pamela raised her hand. "I only said she moved on. I didn't say where she went." Hell? Surely, she was not in Hell. She had never done anything to deserve Hell. "My informant said that his boss had arranged a present for you. A present at a certain college you both know. The present is waiting for you." She told them.  
"Who the hell is your informant?" Dean growled.  
"He said his name was Will."

"I told you it wasn't Stanford." Dean huffed as he got into the Impala. The first college they thought of was Stanford. It was where this road had restarted. Sam had left everything for hunting after Dean approached him one night. Sam loosened his tie.  
"I have another place in mind." Sam said quietly. Dean told him to share. "Dartmouth. It's where Stella went to school. This is about her, after all. I'm still not sure about this Will guy or his boss."  
Dean had never been to Dartmouth before.

Dean was fairly impressed by the institution. Large, fancy and old. And a lot of rich kids. He straightened his jacket out.  
"Uh, Dean. I think there's something you're going to want to see." Sam shook his shoulder. He nodded his head to the left of them.  
The girl had long blond hair that was pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wore a pair of jeans, brown heels and a pink shirt.  
Stella.  
And she was walking right towards him.  
"No, India, I swear! He seriously texted me and said 'dinner at seven. Wear something nice.' Can you believe it?" She laughed.  
The girl beside her began to giggle. "He's totally going to propose!"  
Propose? What?  
Stella scoffed. "As if. Ezra doesn't believe in marriage. Everyone knows that."  
Ezra? What the hell was going on?  
Stella bumped against his shoulder as she passed him by. She stopped and turned around. "Oh lord. I'm so sorry." Her brown eyes were wide. He stared at her. His Stella. Alive. "Uh, are you okay?" She asked, frowning.  
Sam nudged him with his elbow. "Oh, uh...yeah. Sorry about that. You really look like someone I know." She didn't know who he was.  
She smiled awkwardly. "Right, well. Anyways, sorry about bull-dozing you." And she turned right back around and kept walking.  
Dean waited until she was well out of earshot. "She didn't even recognize us. It's like someone wiped her memory. Who? Why?" Sam said those were questions that could be answered over a plate of food.  
The nearest diner was within walking distance. It was almost empty, except for one person in a back booth.  
"Oh no." Sam groaned.  
Dean looked where his brother was looking. The one person was staring at them, grinning from ear to ear.  
"Hello boys." Crowley waved.

Dean stared at the crossroads demon, his eyes hard. "Why?" That was all he wanted to know.  
Crowley shrugged. "I love messing with you boys. Keeps my heart happy. And what better way to mess with you, Squirrel, than to toy with your feelings?" He sipped his milk shake.  
"Stella isn't some pawn in whatever sick game is going on in your mind, Crowley. She's just a girl." Sam snapped.  
Crowley looked at Dean. "Oh no. Stella Hamilton is much more than some girl. She's the girl your brother loves."  
They both looked at him. "You said you didn't love her." Sam whispered.  
Dean opened his mouth but the words didn't come out. Not at first, anyways. "I don't. I don't love her. I can't." He said stiffly. Loving people and being a hunter didn't go together.  
Crowley clicked his tongue. "Don't lie, Squirrel. We're all friends here. Besides, I thought you would be glad I brought your girlfriend back from the dead? Isn't that what you've wanted?"  
Yes. It was. But he knew it wasn't right. People didn't get to just cheat death. It wasn't right. "You have to send her back. Let her move on. It's the right thing to do." Dean said quietly.  
Crowley chuckled. "I'm a demon, Dean. I'm not supposed to do what's right."

Dean flipped through the television channels. "Maybe we should call Cas. He would know what to-."  
"Sam. Dean. Hello." Cas. Of course. Dean glanced, waved, and turned back to the TV. Cas looked at Sam. "What is wrong with Dean?" He asked in a not so quiet voice.  
Sam frowned. "Crowley brought a friend back from the dead."  
Dean grunted. "Stella Hamilton?" Cas asked. Dean looked at him and Sam nodded. "Yes. The Host of Heaven has been buzzing about it. We expected her a few months ago but could not figure out why she never showed up. I see now. Would you like for me to fix the situation?"  
"No." Dean snapped. As much as he knew that Stella being alive again wasn't right, he missed her.  
He missed her smile, her laugh. The way she danced around the house when she was cooking or cleaning. He missed standing outside of the bathroom while she was showering, listening to her sing terribly off-key. Her crawling into his bed in the middle of the night, forcing him to be her big spoon, but he never cared. He didn't miss the pies as much as he just missed being near her.  
"She doesn't remember anything. Just...we have to let her go, Sammy." But he was trying to convince himself of that.  
Cas looked at Sam, unsure of how to respond. "We have to let her go." Sam agreed, nodding.

The strip club.  
He hadn't been in...he wasn't sure how long it had been. But there he was. Sitting at a table, a bottle of beer in his hand. He took a drink, eyeing the dancer on the stage.  
Dean had used to be able to admire strippers. To willingly put a few ones in a pair of panties. But that was before Stella. And maybe a little after. He wasn't sure when he stopped feeling the need to go sit in a strip club, but he knew it was after he met Stella. Dean rubbed his chin.  
Stella.  
She was back. But not really. She didn't know anything about who she used to be. She didn't remember him. And Ezra. She was dating that bastard again. If he did anything for this new Stella, it would be getting her away from him before he hit the road and Ezra hit her again or worse.  
Sam would help him get rid of that douche. Stella was family, whether she knew it or not. And they protected family.  
He took another drink from his beer and switched tables, moving closer to the stage. He just wanted one night to forget everything. One night to disappear, drown in a few beers and maybe in a stripper too.  
"EZRA!" Someone shrieked. Dean sat up straighter and turned his head. A blond girl was storming into the room, an extremely pissed look on her face.  
Stella.  
A security guard came out of nowhere and stood in front of her. "Miss, you can't come in here disrupting like that." At least he was polite.  
She stepped back, looking at him. A man stood up. One he vaguely recognized as Ezra Rutherford. "You bastard! You fucking bastard!" She screamed at him.  
Ezra slipped the guard a fifty. "I'm sorry about the trouble, sir. My girlfriend is clearly intoxicated." He smiled at the guard and grabbed Stella by the elbow. "Let's talk about this outside, Stells."  
She jerked away from him. "I'm not going anywhere with you." She spat, spit going all over his face. He wiped it off smoothly, glaring at her. She turned around, storming out.  
"I apologize again." He said before going after her.  
Dean knew. He knew whatever happened wasn't good. But he also knew that what Ezra would do to her wouldn't be good either. He took another drink of his beer and left, quietly following them. Ezra had dragged her to the alley behind the club, pinning her to the wall. She didn't even look scared.  
"What the hell is your problem?" He growled.  
She stared at him. "You raped her."  
Dean saw the look on his face change, but mold back in a matter of seconds.  
"I don't know what you're talking about." He said.  
She wriggled in his grasp. "India. You raped her. She told me everything."  
Ezra swallowed. "She was asking for it. And at least it was me instead of some random fucker."  
Stella pushed him off of her finally. "Asking for it? You think she was fucking asking for it?" She turned away from him.  
"Stella, it's not a big deal. It's India for God's sake. She's a whore anyways." He sighed.  
Stella whirled around and punched him in the nose. "You were asking for it." She hissed. He covered his nose and wiped the blood on a kerchief. A fucking kerchief. He stood up straight. "We're done, Ezra. For good this time. I'll see you in court, you motherfucker."  
She started to walk away. But he grabbed her by the shoulder and slammed her to the ground. "You're not going anywhere, bitch."  
Anger overcame him. Before he could stop himself, Dean was on top of Rutherford, slamming his fist into Ezra's face. "Don't fucking lay a hand on her." He growled.  
Ezra pushed him off, smashing his head onto the ground. His fist connected with Dean's cheek. Dean tried to shove him off but Ezra had him good.  
He heard a gun click. "Get off of him." Stella's voice was low. She was holding a gun. "Leave, Ezra. Leave me alone, leave India alone. Leave now or I swear to God I'll shoot you in the head."  
Ezra stood up. He wiped his hands on his pants. He shot her a deadly glare before walking away. She finally dropped the gun when he was long gone. She helped Dean off the ground.  
"You're bleeding." He said softly.  
She reached out to touch his face. Ezra had gotten him good. "So are you." She whispered.  
He shrugged. "I've had worse."  
"So have I." He knew that. He should have killed him when he had the chance. "Let me take you back to my apartment and get you cleaned up. I have food. And alcohol." She smiled.

Dean glanced around the apartment as he sat on the couch. He could hear someone's faint snores from one of the bedrooms. Stella appeared, a first aid kit in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.  
"You like whiskey, right? You seem like a whiskey person." She sat down beside him. Some part of her remembered. He knew it. Some part of her remembered who he was and who Sam was. She opened the first aid kit and took out the peroxide. She dabbed it on a cloth and put it over his lip and cheek bone. "You have really good bone structure." She smiled. Bone structure. He winced at the burn of the peroxide. "I don't want to bandage it in case there's some gross bacteria in there." She told him.  
She opened the bottle of whiskey and poured him a glass. He took a drink. "Why him?" He asked her. He had to be careful. He couldn't give anything away.  
"He loves me."  
Dean frowned. "If he loved you, he would never hurt you."  
She shrugged. "Sometimes the people you love hurt you, Winchester." She drank. Winchester. He hadn't told her his last name. He stared at her. "You know, I really missed the taste of whiskey." She swished the liquid around in her cup. She looked at him.  
She knew.  
He swallowed. "When did you find out?" His voice was quiet. He never planned on this. He was going to let her live her life without him. No matter how much he wanted her.  
She stood up. "When you saved me from Ezra. That was when I...recalled you. But I saw something when I ran into you the other day. A memory." She said softly. "Were you ever going to say anything to me?"  
"No." He told the truth. "I thought...I thought you would be better off not knowing."  
She nodded. "Is that what you want, Dean? Do you want me to stay here?" Her voice was small.  
Her brown eyes met his green ones. "It isn't about what I want, Stella." He put his glass on the table. "When you died, it was my worst fear brought to life. I never wanted this life to hurt you and it killed you."  
"You left me in Manhattan. I know you didn't mean to but you left me." He looked at his feet. "I wasn't as embarrassed as I was upset with you. I just...you promised me." Tears pooled in her eyes. "I can't live this life, Dean. You think that I can, but I can't. I wasn't meant for it." She murmured.  
She was staying. She had finally realized what a mess his life was. Most of him was undeniably happy but the rest of him couldn't bear it.  
"I want to go home, Dean."  
He nodded his head. "Okay."  
"No. Take me back. I want to go back to Sioux Falls."

He set her bags on the floor of her bedroom. "Welcome back, kid."  
She smiled at him. "We need to have a talk." She said, shutting the door.  
Oh no.  
She sat on the bed and patted the empty space beside her. He sat down. "About what happened before the gala...about what happened between us."  
He licked his lips. "It shouldn't have happened."  
She nodded. "It was a mistake. We were both...worked up and emotional."  
"It won't happen again." They agreed.


	8. Square One- Chapter 8

**A/N:: OKAY HELLO THERE. THERE IS SOME SMUTTISH STUFF IN THIS CHAPTER. JUST A WARNING. I COULDNT RESIST. THERE WILL DEFINITELY BE SMUT IN LATER CHAPTERS BUT IDK WHICH ONES. OKAY BYE. I LOVE YOU.**

 _The shifter stared at her, eyes dark and cold. They were everywhere, waiting. Waiting to attack her. To kill her. She tried to scream but the sound never came. She backed up as one advanced towards her. She hit a hard surface, the wall._

 _She was cornered.  
"Please. Please no. I didn't do anything. Please don't." She shook her head. The shifter with the knife in his hand came closer and closer. "No! Don't! Please don't!" She screamed. She didn't want to die. Not again. The knife glimmered under the dim lights. Dean stood behind the shifters, not even flinching at her screams. "Dean! Help me please! Dean!" She shouted at him. Why wouldn't he help her?  
The shifter pinned her to the wall with his free hand and shoved the knife into her stomach with the other. He stepped away, leaving the knife in her. They stood around her, just watching.  
She slumped to the floor, her hand gripping at the handle of the knife, too weak to pull it from her body.  
"Dean?" She tried to call but it was a meek whisper, blood spurting from her mouth. He took a step towards her._

Her eyes shot open.  
She was covered in sweat, her hair damp with it. Green eyes stared down at her, filled with worry.  
"It's okay, kid. It's fine." He whispered, grabbing her hand. She jerked it away subconsciously. Stella sat up, running a hand through her hair. "You were screaming. It woke me up." He said quietly. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"  
"I...I died. It was shifters. They were everywhere. And you just stood there and watched as I died."  
He frowned. "Come on. You can sleep with me." She nodded and he helped her out of the bed. They walked to his room together and he shut the door after, locking it. She looked at him. "Habit." He mumbled, getting into the bed. He held the blankets up for her to crawl under and she did. He draped them around her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "You're okay. I'm not going to let anything happen to you ever again, Stella." He whispered.  
She murmured that she knew. And there they were. Back at square one.

Breakfast smelled divine.  
She sat up. Breakfast? No one else ever cooked. She wasn't exactly sure how they fed themselves before she came along. She got out of Dean's bed and put her hair in a pony tail. She walked down to the kitchen, astonished by what she saw. Dean was actually cooking. And it smelled good.  
He looked back at her, a smile on his face. "Hey, kid. Just sit down. Sammy and Bobby should be back in soon. They took a case in the next town over."  
Stella sat down at the table, confused by what was going on. Dean hardly ever cooked. But when he did, she always had to take over for fear of the house burning down.  
Sam and Bobby arrived a few minutes later, looking exhausted and wary at the sight of Dean in the kitchen. Bobby ruffled her hair as he wheeled past her. "Good to see you back, Stella." He said gruffly. She smiled at him.  
"He's right. Things weren't the same without you. Little dark, little gloomy." Sam agreed, sitting across from her. Dean put the food on the table and sat down.  
The smile he directed at her gave her butterflies. Why was he so beautiful? "This smells really good, Dean." She told him.  
The look she got in return was a smug one. Beautiful and proud. She looked at the three men sitting around her. Her family.  
Yes, she had a family that lived in Manhattan. A mother and a father who loved her dearly. But these three men that she lived with was the family she chose. The family that she fit into perfectly.

Stella knocked on Dean's door softly. She had contemplated the conversation for hours before finally deciding to try it. "S'open." He said from the inside. She nudged the door open and walked in, shutting it behind herself. He was laying on the bed, watching the television. "What's up, kid?"  
Kid. That was all she was to him. A kid. She grimaced and walked over to the bed. She laid down beside him, crossing her ankles. She turned her head to look at him, surprised that he was staring at her. "I want you to teach me how to fight." She didn't wait for a reply before she started again. "I know you don't want me involved in hunting and that's fine, really. But I need to know how to protect myself in case another situation arises like the one with the shifters. I don't want to have to rely on someone else to be there for me."  
She couldn't read his expression. "Okay." He said. She raised her eyebrows and asked for him to elaborate. "I'll teach you how to fight. You're absolutely right. You need to be able to protect yourself. We leave you completely undefended a lot of the time and that's not okay. We thought you were safe because no one knew you were tied to us and it got you killed." He explained.  
That had been ridiculously easy.  
She looked up at the ceiling. "What happened to me wasn't your fault, Dean."  
He scoffed. "That doesn't mean that some part of you deep down feels the same way." She looked at him, frowning. "You have nightmares, Stella. You wake me up screaming my name, pleading for me to help you, asking why I won't help you."  
"I-."  
He stopped her. "So some part of you, even if you don't know it, blames me for what happened."  
"I don't blame you. I just...part of me wishes that you would have done more to save me. To try and save me. You just sat there." She remembered it vividly. "Why didn't you try to take me to the hospital?"  
He licked his lips. The action made her stomach swirl. "Me and Sam see a lot of deaths, kid. We know when someone has time and when they don't. Moving you would have made it worse. Sam knew instantly that you wouldn't make it. If I even thought there was a two percent chance of you living, I would have done anything."

Dean had been training her for a few weeks. And she personally thought she was doing really well. But she knew that Dean was going easy on her. She hated it.  
He stared at her. "You want what?"  
"Don't go easy on me. I'm a big girl, I can take a hit." She told him.  
He said no. "I'm not going to punch you."  
She glared at him. "Well, I don't know how you expect me to be prepared for a fight when you won't give me your all. I mean, a shifter would hit me. It wouldn't hesitate."  
He locked his jaw. "No."  
Her nostrils flared. "I can take a hit, Dean."  
"No, Stella."  
She stepped towards him. "Hit me." She challenged.  
"No."  
She shoved him, causing him to stumble back a few steps. "Do it." She hissed.  
He grabbed her by the shoulders, smashing her into the wall only a few feet behind her. Her head knocked against the concrete with a small thud. He had her pinned. Her heart sped up, Dean's breath hot on her face. "Is this what you want, Stella?" Oh God, yes. The feeling in her stomach made her squirm. She bit her lip to keep from making any noise. His eyes darkened. "Don't do that." He growled.  
Oh. Fuck.  
"Dean." An unfamiliar voice said. Dean's eyes went wide and he backed up, turning away from her. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. The man in front of them wore a brown trench coat. His dark hair rested messily and his blue eyes seemed concerned. "Is everything alright?" He asked.  
Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, Cas. Everything is fine. What's up? I didn't call you or anything."  
This guy- Cas- stared at her intently. Freaky. "Stella Hamilton. I apologized for being freaky." He said cautiously. She glanced at Dean.  
"Oh." Dean rubbed his chin. "Stella, this is Castiel. He's uh...he's an angel."  
What?  
An angel?  
"Yes." Castiel nodded, seemingly reading her every thought. "I'm an angel." Full blown wings spread from his back.  
"Oh shit." She whispered. They were gone in a matter of moments.  
"Cas? What's up?" Dean repeated his earlier question.  
Sweat dripped from his brow and he wiped it off. He bent down and grabbed his water bottle. He squirted the water in his mouth and dropped the bottle after. She watched as he ran a hand through his hair, staring at Cas. She wanted him to fuck her senseless.  
Cas gasped, staring at her. Shit. He knew. He could read her thoughts after all. Her cheeks turned bright red at the thought of an angel listening to her sex thoughts.  
"Something wrong?" Dean asked.  
Stella stared back at the angel, silently begging him not to say anything. "Oh. No, Dean. I just remembered why I came to you. Can we speak in private?" He asked Dean.  
Dean looked at her and she shrugged. Who was she to interfere with a conversation concerning an angel? No one. Dean and Castiel walked a few feet away to speak in private, leaving her alone.  
She watched the way they interacted. They were close, good friends probably. Dean was nodding to something Castiel had said, a look of relief on his face. He looked back at her, his green eyes concerned and mouth moving. Was he talking about her? Castiel nodded his head and said something that made Dean visibly relax. And then Castiel disappeared. She blinked and when her eyes opened, he was still gone and Dean was walking towards her.  
"Good news, kid." He said, a bounce in his step.  
She raised her eyebrows. "Must be if it came from an angel."  
He smiled lazily. "Castiel says he can get rid of your nightmares."  
She frowned. What the hell did that mean? "How would he do that?"  
"Easy. He can just take them from you. He'll get them but he's an angel. He hardly ever sleeps so he'll be okay."  
That wasn't right. He didn't know her and he wanted to help her. To take all her bad dreams and give them to himself. She didn't like it. "No." She shook her head.  
"Stella. You don't sleep." He pointed out.  
"I'll get over it, Dean. They're only bad dreams. I wouldn't wish them on anyone."  
He looked at her. "St-."  
She cut him off. "I said no. And don't you dare try to go behind my back with it either." She warned.

It was a bright sunny day. A warm day. The perfect day to wash Dean's car. She woke up wanting to do something nice for him. She didn't know why, but she did. A pie wouldn't cut it this time. Well, not just a pie. She knew exactly why she wanted to wash the Impala. Dean would definitely see her, wet and bent over his precious car.  
As much as she knew having sex with him was a mistake, she wanted it. Badly. So she changed from her pajamas into a white tee shirt and jean shorts. Sam was at the kitchen table, newspaper in hand. "Where you going?" He asked gruffly.  
She smiled brightly, kissing his forehead. "Gonna wash the Impala."  
He looked at her, lowering the newspaper. His eyes raked her body. "Shit." He mumbled. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "The look in your eyes. You're scheming. You know the Sunday morning ritual. Dean always goes to wax the car after he wakes up." She nodded, grinning. "So what you did in New York, that was special, huh?" Why wouldn't be? Unless Dean said something to imply that it wasn't. "Better get out there then. He'll wake up soon." Sam warned her.  
Her eyes lit up. She felt like a teenager all over again. She was giddy the whole way to the garage. She had nicked the keys from Dean's jeans. She moved the car from the garage to the open, rolling up all the windows and making sure the doors were shut tight. She knew that no matter how hot she looked, Dean would kill her if anything happened to the interior of his baby. She filled the bucket up, added plenty of car wash soap, or whatever it was called. She turned on the water hose and sprayed the car down.  
The Impala glinted in the sunlight. It really was a beautiful car. She wished she got to drive it more often. That definitely would have displayed ultimate trust between them. Dean barely let Sam drive and they were blood. She dropped the hose and tossed a sponge into the bucket. She started with the left side, scrubbing the car until she felt completely satisfied that it was clean. Then the back and the right side. She could feel eyes on her as she sprayed the hood with water again. Dean. She held back a smirk as she bent over, running the sponge over and over the car.  
He cleared his throat. "Stella." He called.  
She turned, leaning against the wet car. She could feel the water soaking through her shorts. "Good, you're awake." She smiled. "You can help me wash her and then we can wax."  
He licked his bottom lip. "Uh, yeah. I can do that." He nodded, walking towards her. He bent to pick up the hose.  
"No. Take off your shirt." She demanded.  
He looked at her. "Stella."  
"I bought that for you last Christmas. It's a nice shirt. And we aren't getting dirty car soap and wax on it. So take it off." She ordered. He did as she told. Her eyes scoured his stomach and chest. He tossed the shirt onto another car. "Thank you."  
He grabbed the hose and sprayed the hood of the car. She was washing the front left wheel when cold water hit her back. She looked back at Dean who had just dropped the hose. He held his hands up. "My bad. My finger slipped."  
Stella stood up, walking towards him. She picked the bucket up from the ground and tossed the water on him. She admired her handy work, the way his body glistened, reflecting sunlight. He pushed his hair back, locking his jaw. Her eyes widened as he took a step towards her. One more step. And then she took off sprinting. He chased her around the car, always close but never close enough to touch her. She squealed when his hand grazed her wrist once. She stood on one side of the car and he on the other.  
"That was a very bad idea." Dean's voice was cracking. Her eyes glinted.  
"I can't imagine why." She simpered.  
His eyes turned dark. "I don't like being wet."  
"Oh. I do." She smirked at the double meaning, watching the way his lip twitched.  
"You're going to pay." He was starting to move again.  
"Only if you catch me."  
She waited until he was almost on her side of the car. And then she jumped on the hood, careful not to dent it. She didn't want to die. His hands wrapped around her ankles, pulling her back. He flipped her, making her face him.  
Her back was pushed against the car, Dean hovering over her. She could feel him through his jeans. She wriggled against him. "Stop." His voice was hoarse. She smirked, grinding her hips against his. He pinned her hands to the car. "I said stop, Stella." His voice was low, sexy but scary.  
He stepped away from her and it washed over her.  
Embarrassment flooded her body, her cheeks went hot as Dean stared at her. She felt like a child. She had acted like a child. She wanted to cry out of shame. She needed to get inside before she fucked up any more. "I need to shower and make lunch." She didn't wait for a response. She just ran past him into the house.  
Sam was still at the table. He looked at her as she slammed the door. She finally became aware of the fact that she did not have on a bra and Sam could see everything. She swallowed. "Stella." He said quietly. She ran up the stairs and slammed the door to her room.

"Come in." Her voice cracked. Sam opened the door and shut it softly. "Hey, Sammy." She smiled weakly.  
He sat down beside her. "What happened?"  
She buried her face in his chest. "I made a complete fucking fool of myself. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I acted like a kid, Sam. I was a fool to think that he actually wanted me. When he said what happened was a mistake, he meant it. He doesn't see me like that. I'm a kid to him."  
His fingers ran through her hair, his other hand creating small circles on her back. "I'm sorry." Was all he could say.  
She pulled away from him, eyes searching. She knew what she was about to do was a very bad idea. But she wanted it. Needed it, if she dare said. She put her hand on Sam's knee. "Do you want me, Sam?" She whispered. The switch came on instantly. She was good at things like this. She knew how to be wanted. She knew what worked and what didn't.  
"I...what?" He swallowed.  
She leaned forward, her lips close to his ear, almost touching. "Do. You. Want. Me?" She breathed. "Because I want you."  
His breath hitched. Sam was attractive, yes. Almost as hot as Dean. He was tall and muscular. Powerful. She would openly admit that she was sexually attracted to both Winchester brothers but only had feelings- or whatever- for the elder one. She couldn't imagine what having sex with Sam Winchester was like.  
"Stella. You're just upset. You want to make him mad."  
She shrugged. "And? That doesn't mean that I don't want to experiment with you, Sam?"  
Sam stared back at her, his eyes searching her face. "This is a really bad idea, Stella." He mumbled.  
She ran her hand up his thigh, resting it on the zipper of his jeans. "Bad ideas foster great times, Sam." She murmured against his ear. "I saw the way you looked at me earlier. You wanted me. But you were afraid of Dean. Of what he would say or do. News flash, Sammy. Dean doesn't care about me. I'm just the annoying kid hanging around. Besides, when was the last time you had sex?" She had him there. Who knew how long it had been for Sam? "I just want to have a good time, Sam." She was practically begging him. "I know you can show me a good time."  
That was all it took. He pushed her back against the bed, pinning her down. She smirked up at him. She helped him tear his clothes off. Flannel, then his tee shirt. He was just as sculpted as Dean. She pushed all thoughts of the older Winchester brother out of her head. She took in the sight of Sam. He was perfect. His chest heaved as he looked down at her. She unzipped his jeans, peeling them from his body. He ripped her shirt from her and tore her shorts away.  
"Fuck." He groaned.  
She took a deep breath and prepared herself. She knew deep down what kind of sex Sam Winchester would give her. It made her stomach roll. In a good way. He looked at her and she pulled him down, smashing their lips together.


	9. Seeing Red- Chapter 9

He should apologize. He knew that. So he was going to. Dean knew it was serious when she didn't crawl into his bed in the middle of the night.  
He didn't knock on her door before opening it. "Thank God. I can't find my underwear." He stared at his brother. His naked younger brother. In Stella's bedroom. He felt his face go hot. "Oh shit." Sam mumbled. He grabbed the comforter from the bed and wrapped it around his waist.  
Dean stared, completely stunned.  
Stella shoved past him into her room. She looked at Dean and then at Sam. "Well, this is awkward." She muttered. Sam stared at her. "Dean, what are you doing in here?" She asked.  
"I uh...I don't remember." His voice wavered. She frowned.  
"Stella. My underwear." Sam avoided his eye contact. She wrinkled her nose up with thought. She said she had no idea. "I kind of need them." He said quietly.  
Dean left them, shutting the door. His vision was going red. He couldn't remember ever feeling this mad. This hurt by something. He balled his fists together and stormed out of the house. He grabbed an aluminum baseball bat and found a battered old car. He slammed the bat into the windshield. The doors. He beat the car until it was only shattered glass and dents. Until the doors threatened to fall off.  
"Dean." His brother said gently. He dropped the bat. "I don't know what to say to you."  
Dean looked at his younger brother. His younger brother who had just had sex with Stella. "You don't know what to say? How about a fucking explanation, Sam!" He shouted.  
Sam flinched. "You upset her."  
"So you used that to your advantage? You took advantage of her?" He could kill him.  
Sam said no immediately. "It wasn't like that. She asked me. She said she wanted to do it. I told her it was a bad idea but she didn't care. Dammit Dean, she's really hard to resist once her mind is set."  
He locked his jaw. "I can't fucking believe you."  
And then he punched him. Blood flowed from Sam's nose. He took it like a man, hardly moving from the hit. And he hit him again. And again. All he saw was red.  
"Hey! Hey! Stop! What the fuck, Dean?" Stella screamed, shoving him away suddenly. He stumbled backwards from her push. He watched her examine Sam's bloody face. She looked back at him, eyes hard with anger. "What the hell is wrong with you?"  
"Stella." Sam warned her.  
"Shut up, Sam." Dean hissed.  
Stella stood up straight. "You can't beat the shit out of him for no reason, Dean."  
"I had a reason." He said. She questioned that. "He had sex with you."  
She laughed. She actually laughed. "You had got to be kidding me." She shook her head. "I can't believe you, Dean. I was horny. I hadn't had sex since before I died! Of course when you rejected me, I turned to Sam. And he was more than happy to help." His vision blurred. "Just because you see me as kid doesn't mean everyone else does." She spat. She turned back to Sam. "Come on. I'll try to salvage what's left of your face."

Dean took a drink of the beer. Bobby wheeled up beside him.  
"I saw Sam's face." Bobby stated. Dean nodded. He didn't want to talk about this. "Go apologize to your brother, boy." Bobby told him.  
Dean narrowed his eyes, holding the neck of the bottle in his hand. "He slept with her. He slept with Stella."  
"Do I look like I care?" Bobby asked him. Dean snorted. No, he didn't. "You did it too."  
He said it was different. Bobby asked him how. "It just was. It's just...it's different, okay?" He couldn't explain it.  
It was just the plain fact that ever since she started staying with them, Stella was off-limits. But she had saddled up with Dean, creating an unspoken bond with him. They flirted harmlessly (and shamelessly), they coddled each other. Best there was always the hint that there was more. Nothing ever came of it. Nothing ever would.  
"Go apologize."  
Dean finished his beer and threw it away. As he walked up the stairs to Stella's bedroom, he wondered if he would walk in on something. The door was wide open, no one in there. Their voices came from her bathroom, the door cracked. Dean stalked quietly, trying to listen.  
He heard Sam grunt. "Sorry, Sammy." Stella murmured.  
"S'okay."  
She sighed, setting something down. "No, it isn't. I knew it was a bad idea. The car. But damn. I just wanted things to be like what they were before. And I got so angry with him. I shouldn't have been so angry but I was. And then I roped you into it. You tried to tell me no, but I wouldn't let you." She said in a soft voice. "I'm sorry."  
"It's okay, Stella. Seriously. You should just give him time to adjust to you being back. He was pretty torn up after what happened. I was worried about him doing something stupid everyday. I know how close you two were. Just give him time and it'll be back to normal soon." Sam advised her.  
Dean knocked on the door, opening it wider. Stella didn't look at him. But Sam did. "Hey, Sam. Look, I'm sorry. I really am. I shouldn't have beat the shit out of you like that."  
Sam pushed off the counter. "It's cool, man. I get it." He half-smiled. He looked back at Stella. "Thanks for fixing my face, Stella." She nodded slowly and Sam left them.  
"Stella." He tested the water.  
She finally looked at him. "Yes, Dean?"  
"Can we talk about yesterday?"  
Yesterday.  
He didn't know what happened. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he went out to wax Baby, like he did every Sunday morning. And there Stella was, her white shirt completely soaked through and wearing the smallest shorts he had ever seen her in. She was curved over the hood of the car, ass on perfect display.  
And then she had played that game with him. Grinding against him, making him want to rip her clothes off even more than before. He had been so bitchy about it. Rude, even. Sending her right into Sam's arms. Not what he wanted.  
"What about yesterday?" She asked.  
He took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or whatever. I just...we agreed that that wouldn't happen again."  
She licked her lips. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. I just...damn, I was horny." She laughed, uneasily though.  
"I don't want something like that to ruin our friendship." He told her.  
She said she understood. "I want things to be like they were before I died, Dean. You were my best friend. That's all I want." That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her. He just wanted to take her away and be with her. Just her.  
"I want that too." He said.

"I had a nightmare." She whispered, crawling into the bed. He turned over to look at her. She was shivering, even though she was covered in sweat.  
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "Wanna talk about it?" He asked quietly.  
"You died." Those two words were all it took. Suddenly she was crying into his shoulder.  
His hand ran through her hair. He kept telling her it would be okay. "I'm not going anywhere, kid. I promise I won't leave you." He whispered against her forehead.  
She looked at him, her brown eyes red from tears. "I'm sorry I had sex with Sam." She sniffled.  
"Don't be sorry. I don't have a say in any decision you make."  
She snuggled her face into his chest more. "It's okay. I know you were jealous." Her tone was lighthearted. Joking.  
He snorted. "Was not."  
"Was too." She breathed quietly.  
Moments later she was asleep.  
"Was." He murmured, making himself comfortable.

"FUCK!" He heard Stella shout. She was in the kitchen and he was in the garage. He ran in, ready to fight. She was leaning on the counter, phone in front of her.  
"Kid, what happened?" He asked her.  
She looked over at him, her expression startling. "Ryker's on his way."  
Ryker? As in Ryker Carlisle. He vaguely remembered that she had gone on a date with him but left to check on Dean in the hospital. But Ryker had been there for her at the gala.  
"Here?"  
She nodded. "He got the address from Daddy. He's coming right now." She pushed off the counter, running a hand through her long hair. "Go start putting your shit away." He raised his eyebrows. "Your hunting stuff." She elaborated. He asked her what she was going to do. "I'm gonna fucking bake a pie."

Dinner had never been more awkward. Ryker Carlisle seemed like the perfect person for Stella Hamilton. They complimented each other. They were a pair. Ken and Barbie.  
"I heard you went to Oxford." Sam said, cutting into his chicken.  
Ryker nodded. "Yeah. Wasn't all it's cracked up to be. Pretty pretentious if you ask me. I would have been fine going somewhere such as Stanford."  
Dean tried not to roll his eyes. "I went to Stanford, actually." Sam stated. Ryker's eyebrows shot up. "I was studying law, but I had to leave. A really big family problem came up."  
Ryker nodded. "And you, Dean? Did you study anywhere?"  
Stella looked at him through his eyelashes. Her glare was screaming the words 'be nice.' Dean swallowed his food. "No, actually. I stayed with our dad and helped him out with the family business. Something around the nature of pest control." Stella smiled at him shyly.  
"I should get that pie." Stella stood up, placing her napkin on the table. "Dean, clear the table for me?" She asked nicely.  
He stood up and took everyone's plates, following her to the kitchen. He put them in the sink.  
"You okay, kid?" He put a hand on her shoulder.  
She nodded. "It's weird. Him being here." He agreed with her. It was definitely weird. She grabbed the pie and smiled at him. "Thank you, Dean."  
"For what?"  
She didn't answer, instead going back to the dining room.

Stella had changed clothes, opting for more comfortable clothes. She was sitting on the couch, nestled in between Sam and Ryker. She was flipping through the television channels. Bobby was dozing off in his chair. Dean was...he was surprised he hadn't punched this Ryker kid yet.  
No one noticed the small, affectionate gestures Ryker made towards Stella. The occasional hand on her knee, arm snaked around her waist or shoulders, brushing her hair out of her face. No one but Dean. He sat, jaw locked tightly, hands resting on his knees. Every so often, his eyes glanced towards the clock. Time was moving achingly slow. Once the clock finally hit eleven, he stood.  
"Gonna hit the hay." He muttered, trudging past the couch and up the stairs.  
Stella glanced at him as he passed her. "G'night, Dean."  
He didn't respond. Once in his room, he slammed the door. He grabbed the picture frame from his dresser and launched it at the wall. It shattered on impact, falling to pieces in the floor. His gaze found the vase. That fucking vase.  
Stella insisted on having flowers in every room. She loved flowers. She kept them watered, in the sunlight. She just liked having flowers. Dean obliged because he wanted her to be happy. But those fucking flowers in that fucking vase. If he had to look at them any longer, he would explode.  
His hand wrapped around the curve of the vase and threw it. It exploded, a mess of ceramic and water and flowers. The door opened.  
"Dean? What's going on?" Her voice. He didn't look at her. "Dean."  
"Get out." He hissed.  
Her hands pressed against his shoulder blades. "Talk to me, Dean."  
He turned swiftly, quick enough that the action made her stumble backwards. He pinned her to the wall. His arms caged around her head and his legs on the outside of hers. Her chest heaved, her breasts pressing against his own chest. "You want me to talk to you?"  
She nodded feebly. "Fine. I'll talk." He leaned down, closer to her. He inhaled her scent. Vanilla and apple, from the pie. But she always had the waft of vanilla around her. "I shut down when you died. I turned everything off. And then you were back. Alive. And whatever we had has changed. And I don't like it."  
"I don't either." Her voice was quiet, maybe trembling.  
He shushed her. "I see you and I go wild, Stella. I want to touch you, to run my hands over every part of you. I want to fuck you." He said it. She looked at him through her lashes. God, that fucking look. Begging him for it. "And then you pulled that stunt last week with the car. Bending over, knowing I was going to see you. Such a bad move, Stella."  
Her breathing hitched. "I thought you didn't want to ruin our friendship?"  
He groaned. "I don't want to ruin you, kid." Her hand was on his thigh. "I'm no good. I'm older than you, nothing to look forward to but hunting and dying. You don't want that. I know if I go there with you, there's no going back."  
She leaned closer to him. "Where do you want to go with me, Dean?" Her voice was driving him crazy. It had been shaking only minutes ago and now it was seductive. Making him want her more and more.  
"Everywhere."  
She bit her lip.  
"Don't do that." He growled.  
He leaned closer. Close enough to kiss her. He could feel her breath on his lips.  
There was a knock on the door. "Everything okay in there?" Sam.  
Dean pushed off the wall, suddenly angrier than before. Fucking Sam. He threw the door open. "Everything's fine, Sam."  
Stella walked out, completely composed. Like nothing had ever happened. Sam looked at his brother, trying not to notice the bulge in Dean's pants.  
"Sure you're okay?" Sam smiled.  
Dean glared.

It was cold outside. Especially cold for an April night. Dean shrugged into his jacket again. He needed to think. He had been too angry lately. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He knew it had something to do with Stella. Stella and no sex. That had to be it. He was too worked up with no release.  
"I can help you." Someone said.  
He looked around, eyeing a suspicious character a few feet in front of him. "I don't think I need your help." Dean replied, already reaching for his gun.  
The man held his hands up. "I only need a ride, friend." Dean's hand rested on his gun. "My car broke down over there-" he pointed to the smoking car on the side of the street, "I just need a ride to my house. My wife's pregnant. She could go into labor any minute. First kid, don't wanna miss it. You know?"  
He took his hand away. "Yeah. I know." He grumbled. "I'll give you a ride, in exchange for some advice. Must be doing something right if you're married."  
The man chuckled, walking towards Dean. "Of course. Anything since you're helping me."  
"There's this girl. Her name is Stella. She gets me worked up, physically, emotionally. Any way possible. I can't...I don't know what to do." He didn't feel weird, baring his emotions to this stranger.  
The man smiled. "I think I can help you just fine, Dean Winchester."  
Before he had time to react, black smoke poured from the man's mouth and into Dean's. The man fell to the ground. Dean's eyes went black.  
"Oh yes. This will be fun."


	10. Different- Chapter 10

Dean was different.  
Always in a good mood, always smiling.  
She loved it.

"Good morning, beautiful." He greeted her as he walked into the kitchen.  
She had been up for a while, cleaning and making breakfast. "Hey." She said. His arms snaked around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. She shifted, suddenly feeling very awkward.  
"You smell so good." He purred into her ear.  
She turned, confused. "Are you okay, Dean?"  
He nodded. "Perfect. Are you okay?"  
She said yes and went back to cooking. Her attention wavered when his hands ran a trail up from her stomach to her chest. She turned, pushing him away. "Dean. What the hell are you doing?" She hissed. His eyes flashed to black. Fully black. She knew what that meant. They had warned her. Demon. "SAM!" She shrieked as his fist connected with her cheek.

She woke up tied to a bed, her hands tied to the headboard. The bed was nice and it took her no time to realize she definitely wasn't at Bobby's anymore.  
"Mornin' sunshine." Dean smiled down at her. But this wasn't Dean. This was a demon. She jerked on her arms, knowing it was a bad idea. He clicked his tongue at her. "Don't do that, baby." He murmured, wiping a piece of hair from her face. She flinched.  
"If you're going to kill me, do it already." She hissed at him.  
The black soulless eyes stared down at her. He sat down, hand trailing up her stomach. "Do you know what's fun about possessing a body that still has someone in it? They get to know everything you're doing, hear and see everything you're doing." He whispered. "So when I put my hand here-." his hand rested firmly on one of her breasts, "Dean knows exactly what's going on. He can see where my hand is. And boy, is he mad. It wasn't hard to trick Dean Winchester into giving me his body. I just had to know exactly what to say to him."  
"Why?" She wanted to know why Dean. Why her.  
He chuckled, caressing her face. "I'm a demon, sweetheart. I don't need a reason for anything. I just like having fun. And oh man, are we going to have some fun."

Her arms were going numb but she could still feel the pain from where they were pulled tightly behind her head. Soon enough, he was staring down at her again.  
"You're such a nice thing to look at. Very pretty, very physically attractive." He said softly. She asked how long it had been. Time passed. She didn't know how much, but it passed. "A few days. Little Sammy's going crazy looking for you. I like watching you all squirm." He laughed. Stella tried to adjust the way she was laying. Her shoulders hurt. He leaned over and untied her. "Is that better?"  
She curled her arms around her chest and pulled her knees close. "Let's have some fun now." He grabbed her by the shoulder and stood her up off the bed. "Oh, he really likes you, Stella. Gets all hot and bothered just looking at you." He mumbled. She looked around the room. Anything to get away. Anything to hurt him with. He grabbed her again, forcing her to look at him. "Remember this, sweetheart. If you hurt me, it hurts Dean."

Sam paced the room. He was so dead. He wasn't sure what exactly had happened. He just knew that both Stella and Dean were gone. And Stella had yelled for him.  
"We don't know how to find them or what even happened, boy. We ain't got nothing to go on." Bobby sighed.  
Sam grimaced. They had something. He just hadn't wanted to say it. "The Impala is still here. They took Stella's car. And there's sulfur in the kitchen. And all over Dean's room."  
"So which one of them is possessed?" Bobby asked.  
Great. Question.

He tied her to the chair in the middle of the room. Even her ankles were bound. "This is going to be so much fun, Stella." It sounded exactly like him. She had to tell herself it wasn't him. It wasn't Dean. "You know, when the shifters took you, I thought all was lost. I was right, at first. Because you were dead. But now, here we are, you're alive again and I can still do what I've wanted all along."  
"You want to kill me." She said.  
He nodded. "Of course I want to kill you. But I want to torture you first. To cut you open, watch you bleed, hear you scream."  
"You get off on that kind of thing, don't you?" She swallowed. She really didn't want to die again because the chances of her having eight more lives were really really really slim.  
"Not really, no. See, I've done this before. Hijacked a body who has someone really important to them around. And then I kill the person they love. I'm going to get off on Dean having to listen to you scream as his hand cuts into you, as he kills you. That's the part I like."  
"Sam's going to find me. And he's going to stop you." She warned him.  
The demon scoffed. "Oh, I intend for Sam to find me. I left him a trail of breadcrumbs. But when he gets here, you're going to be dead."

Sam worked with the laptop. Stella's car had a tracker. Dean had made sure of that. Dean called it preventative measures. Sam called it stalking. Or being over-protective. Both, maybe. He hit a few more buttons and the map popped up. Bobby watched him.  
"They've been gone for about a week. That's enough time to get anywhere." Sam said quietly. "But, they're still here. Still in Sioux Falls." He pointed on the map.  
Bobby observed. "They're at that old hotel on Carver. What the hell are they doing there?"  
Sam shook his head. "It's quiet, rundown. Perfect place to take someone you plan on killing."  
"You think the demon is planning on killing?"  
He nodded. "Demons don't mess around, Bobby. We know that. We just have to figure out which one we're exorcising."  
"Dean wouldn't let himself get possessed. He's stupid but he ain't that stupid." Bobby told him.  
Sam's phone rang. Stella. He slid his finger across the screen. "Stella? You okay?"  
Signs were pointing to her. Dean was too smart to get possessed, Stella wouldn't know how to defend herself. They had her car and her phone.  
"Hey Sammy." Dean's voice flowed through the phone as Sam put it on speaker. He heard crying in the background. "Shh, Stella. It's gonna be okay. It'll be over soon." He consoled her.  
"Dean?"  
"Try again, Sammy." Not Dean. A demon.  
Sam swallowed. "We know where you are. We're coming to get her."  
The demon in his brother's body chuckled. "I don't doubt that, Sammy. But when you get here, all that's gonna be left is your brother cradling a dead body."  
"He won't let you kill her." Sam growled through the phone.  
"Sam!" Stella shouted. "Sam, help me, please!" She cried.  
He hung up.  
Sam looked at Bobby. "We go now. I'll get the stuff. Meet me at the car."

He stared at her. Black eyes emotionless. "Please don't kill me." She begged. "I don't want to die again."  
He held a knife in his hand. "You're human. You were created to die. And you cheated death the first time."  
The knife sliced into her arm again, different place but it felt the same. Her voice was becoming hoarse from the screams. "Please, stop." She pleaded.  
Again. And again. Her arms were covered in blood. Her lip was swollen and blood had dried from where he hit her, her eye blackened from another hit. Blood had dried in a stream from her nose, which she was positive he had broken. He had sliced her cheek open, blood still flowing. At first, when she thought he was only going to hit her, she wasn't that worried. Ezra had a temper that matched the boredom of this demon. She could handle the hitting.  
But then the knife came out and a sick feeling filled her stomach.  
His hand jerked. She hadn't noticed it, but then it jerked again. The knife fell from his grasp. His eyes turned green. "Stella." Dean. This was Dean. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. His hand jerked. He was losing his control. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He apologized. She shook her head, knowing it wasn't his fault. It wasn't him doing this to her. "Call C-."  
In an instant, his eyes were black again. "Well, that was a fun little chat you two had, wasn't it?" He twirled the knife between his fingers.

Traffic was fucking everything up. Sam was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white. "What the fuck is going on?" He shouted, pounding his fist against the wheel.  
"Sam." Bobby said.  
Sam grimaced. "We don't have time for this shit, Bobby! That demon is going to kill her!"

Dean wanted her to call someone. Who? She had to think fast. He was going to kill her. C. Someone whose name started with a C. Someone who could save her right then.  
Castiel. Cas. The angel.  
"CAS! Cas, I need you!" She shouted.  
There was a flutter of wings and the demon in Dean's body fell backwards.  
"Stella Hamilton?" Her guardian angel asked.  
"Angel." The demon stood up, clutching the knife.  
Cas put a hand on Stella's shoulder. "Demon." He grabbed the demon by the face. It seized, Dean's body convulsing. Cas' hands dropped, the body falling to the floor.  
"What did you do?" She whispered.  
Cas said he killed the demon. "Dean will be fine. He will wake up shortly." His hands worked quickly, untying her hands and feet. "Are you alright?"  
She swallowed. "I've been better." She laughed shakily.  
Behind them, Dean stirred. He sat up, staring at them. "Oh God." He mumbled, taking in the mutilations on Stella's body. She clambered from the chair and knelt beside him.  
"I'm alive. I'm okay because I'm alive." She told him.  
His green eyes were...she couldn't read them. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, kid. I couldn't...he was too strong." Was he going to cry?  
"Dean, look at me. In the eye." She told him. He did. "I'm okay. It's okay." She whispered.  
The door flew open. Sam and Bobby. Sam grabbed Dean by the collar, yanking him up.  
"Sam! Stop!" Stella stood up. She instantly felt woozy. "It's okay now. Cas got rid of the demon."  
Sam looked at Dean, letting him go. "Sorry, man." He looked at Stella. "You look like shit."  
"Thanks, Sammy."  
Her vision was blurry. "Cas, man, could you fix her up before she bleeds to death?" Dean asked the angel.  
Cas nodded. He reached and touched her on her good cheek. She instantly felt better. "I apologize about the scars. The cuts were deep." He said quietly.  
Battle scars. Just like Sam and Dean.

"Here you go. Grilled cheese and hot chocolate." Dean smiled, sitting next to her and handing her the tray. They were cuddled up on the couch, Netflix ready to stream any show or movie they wanted.  
She smiled at him. "Thank you." She whispered. He nodded. "Dean, you know what happened isn't your fault. You didn't hurt me. It was the demon." She put the tray of food on the floor, facing him.  
He reached and his finger traced the curved scar on her cheek. "Stella, it's my job to protect you. I shouldn't have let myself get possessed. I shouldn't have let that demon take control of my body. I know I didn't hurt you, but I'm responsible."  
She grabbed his hand. "I want you to forget that it happened."  
"That's kind of hard when you have five scars on your body. Scars my hand made."  
"I think what we need to do is get tattoos." Sam was leaning in the doorway of the living room.  
Dean looked at his younger brother. "Tattoos?"  
He nodded. "Hunters get them all the time, Dean. Anti-possession symbols permanently on the body."  
"I like tattoos." Stella grinned."

Stella took her tattoo extremely well. But the boys knew it was because she had a sleeve down her left arm. She got the tattoo on the back of her shoulder. Sam and Dean decided to get theirs on the chests.  
Sam tried to keep a straight face as the needle graced his skin. But there was always the shadow of a grimace on his lips.  
Dean, on the other hand, did not do so well.  
"Hold my hand." He told Stella. She laughed as he wrapped his hand around hers. The needle came out and his grip became tighter.  
"Dean, it isn't that bad." She smiled.  
"He's afraid of needles." Sam told her.  
Dean's face twisted as the artist sketched the symbol onto his skin. "Dammit!" He shouted.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Stella grinned as they left the tattoo parlor. Dean had a permanent frown.  
"That hurt." He muttered.  
Sam chuckled deeply. "Hey, Stella, can I talk to you for a second?"  
Dean stopped walking. Stella nodded and let Sam pull her away from Dean. Dean walked to Stella's car alone, staring at his brother and the girl.  
"I think you two need some alone time. Serious alone time to talk about how you feel and whatever." He told her.  
She rolled her eyes. "I don't feel anything and neither does Dean." She said.  
Sam snorted. "Whatever. Just go to the house, okay? Bobby and I are staying with Sheriff Mills for the night."  
He had prearranged this. Gotten them out of the house and everything. She asked if he was sure. He said yes. "How are you getting there?"  
He told her Sheriff Mills was coming to get him. "Don't worry. I'm a big boy. I won't talk to strangers or anything." He promised. "Good luck." He whispered.  
She turned around, walking back to Dean. "What was that about?" He asked as they got in the car. Dean insisted on driving everywhere. She wasn't allowed to do anything.  
"We've got the house to ourselves tonight apparently."  
"Are you okay with that?"  
"Perfectly." She was giddy. She had Dean all to herself. Not like it mattered because nothing would happen.  
Dean started the car and drove off from the parlor. Stella looked over at him. He was wearing a necklace that Sam had gotten him for Christmas a long time ago. He was also wearing a new necklace, one she had never seen before that was covered in runic looking designs.  
"Where did you get your necklace?" She asked, reaching over to toy with it.  
He looked down briefly. "That isn't mine." He told her. She frowned and he looked down again. "Shit. Shit." He hissed. He swatted her hand away and grabbed at the necklace but it wouldn't budge. "Call Sam. Now!"  
She jumbled her hand into her pockets and grabbed her phone. She dialed Sam's number.  
"Stella. You're supposed to be having deep conversation." He scolded her.  
She put the phone on speaker. "Sammy, we got a problem." Dean's voice was strained. He was still trying to yank the necklace off.  
"What's wrong?"  
They just couldn't catch a break lately. "Dj-." That was when they hit the other car.


	11. Simple Wishes- Chapter 11

The last thing he saw was the headlights of another car coming right towards them.  
The last thing he heard was Stella shouting. Sam shouting.  
The last thing he thought of was a prayer to save her.

"Dean." A voice cooed. "Wake up. It's Stella." Stella. Was she okay? His eyes fluttered open. Her brown eyes were staring down at him, full of concern. "Hey handsome." She smiled softly.  
Handsome. "What happened?" He groaned.  
"You hit another car. You're okay, but the doctors wanted to keep you overnight. Just in case." She ran a hand through his hair. "I was worried sick about you when I got the call. Sam had to come and get me to bring me here."  
She had been with him. Hadn't she? "You were with me." He told her.  
Stella frowned. "No, Dean. I wasn't. I had just gotten off the phone with you to tell you that dinner was ready. You were coming back from Sam's house."  
Sam had a house? What the hell was going on? "I want to go home." He told her.  
She nodded. "Of course you do, baby. I'll get the doctor and we'll get you home." Baby. She called him baby.  
She did just as she said. The doctor cleared him for discharge. He changed into the clothes Sam had dropped off. Stella insisted on helping him to the car and driving. The Sequoia was in perfect condition.  
"Don't worry. The Impala is in the best shop in town. I made sure she was priority." That a girl.  
She tapped her fingers on the wheel as they drove. He wasn't sure where they were. "Where are we going?" He asked her.  
"Home, Dean. We're going home." She laughed, shaking her head.  
She drove into a suburban neighborhood and pulled into the driveway of a nice house. They lived there? Alone? She helped him out of the car and inside the house. She dropped the car keys into a bowl by the door as they walked in. She put him on the couch.  
"I called Perry to let her know you wouldn't be at work tomorrow." Who the hell was Perry? "Last night's dinner is in the fridge if you want me to heat it up for you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He caught a glint as she pulled away. A sparkle. He grabbed her left hand, staring down at the ring. Engaged.  
He was engaged. To Stella.  
"I know. I'm still pretty shocked about it too." She laughed. Her fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. "Do you want dinner or dessert?" She whispered, her voice like silk.  
He fidgeted. "Can I have dessert before dinner?" His voice was wrecked.  
She nodded, a smirk playing her lips.

His hands were all over her body. His lips pressed against every part of exposed skin. Her hands were holding him tightly. "I love you." She murmured, her lips brushing his neck as she spoke.  
He stopped. She looked at him. This wasn't real. She would never say that to him. This wasn't real.  
"Dean?"  
He knew. He remembered. The necklace. The wreck. Djinn.  
"Dean, what's wrong?"  
He knew he had a decision to make. Stay and die. Or leave. He needed to find the djinn. Get out of this world.

She looked incredible. Perfect, as always. Her arm was wrapped around Bobby's, her hand clutching a mass of flowers. "I'm happy for you, man." Sam said from beside him.  
Stella smiled brightly as Bobby delivered her to Dean's side. "Who gives this woman today?" The priest asked.  
"Uh, I do." Bobby said.  
The priest nodded and Bobby went to sit down. The priest opened his book and looked at them. Dean stared at the woman beside him. How had he gotten so lucky? He said 'I do' when he was supposed to.  
"You may kiss the bride."  
Dean grabbed her by the waist and dipped her. His eyes searched for anything that gave it away. Nothing. He pressed his lips to hers. "I love you." She mumbled against his lips. He refrained from saying it back, but she didn't seem to care one bit.  
The reception was held at a bar, typical.  
"Hey, I'm really happy for you guys." Ryker Carlisle appeared, holding a man tightly by the hand.  
Stella smiled at him. "Thank you." She grabbed Dean by the hand, leading him to the alley behind the bar. "We're married now." She whispered, looking up at the sky.  
"Yeah." He nodded.  
"I'm officially Stella Winchester." She smiled at him. Stella Winchester. It had a ring to it.

Dean watched his wife make pancakes. She swung her hips to the beat of the song.  
"Babe, what are you putting in those pancakes?" It was definitely not strawberries.  
She turned, a pickle hanging from her fingers. "Pickles?"  
He shuddered. "Pickles do not go in pancakes, Stella." He informed her.  
She frowned at him. "Right. Pregnancy brain." She laughed, dropping the pickle in her mouth.  
He vividly remembered her telling him she was pregnant. It felt like it only happened yesterday, despite the fact it was seven months ago. But that was the way djinn dreams worked. Life passed by quickly. He walked towards her, putting his hands on her stomach. He bent down. "We can't wait to meet you, little man." He said to her swollen stomach.  
Stella swatted at him with her spatula. "You just can't wait to have sex again." She teased.  
Dean smirked. "The sex will be a definite bonus. I can't wait to be a dad, Stella." He sighed. "I want to be better than my dad was." She leaned over, gently kissing his lips.  
"You will be perfect, baby. Easton will love you no matter what."  
He knew she was right. Their son would love him. Dean was going to be the best dad ever. The best father, the best husband. The family man.  
But Dean also knew that this was not real. It was all an illusion. Even though he felt like he had been living this life for almost a year, he knew if had probably only been a few hours.  
"Dean?" Stella's voice called him back.  
He looked. She was stunning. Wearing pajama pants and a tank top with one of his flannels over it and her bunny slippers. Her hair pulled back from her face in the cutest ponytail he had ever seen. Lips spread into the sweetest smile.  
"I love you." He pulled her close.  
"I know." Her eyes sparkled.  
He didn't want this dream to end.

His wife had a death grip. One that matched any pro-wrestler. His hand was white. He pushed her hair back from her face, kissing her sweaty forehead.  
"You got this, baby. Just a few more good pushes." He told her.  
She glared at him. "Shut up, Dean!" She groaned. He only smiled. She was even beautiful like this.  
The contractions had woken her up from a nap. He had been double checking the nursery, making sure everything was ready for their new baby, whenever he decided to make his arrival.  
A few minutes later, the doctor was holding a small red and screaming human. "Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Winchester?" He nodded eagerly. He took the scissors from the nurse and snipped the cord. "We'll get him washed off and in your arms in no time." The doctor promised.  
Stella sighed contently. Dean put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm proud of you, baby." He told her.  
She gave him a small smile and the doctor was back, a swaddle of white blankets in his hands. He placed the baby in Stella's arms. Their son's face was scrunched up, his hands balled into fists. "He's beautiful." Stella whispered, running her finger down his cheek.  
"Just like you."  
Stella kissed the baby's forehead. "Easton, you are our entire world." She cooed quietly.  
Dean stepped away from them. "I'm gonna go break the news." She nodded, completely caught up in the human she had just delivered into the world. He left the room, making his way to the waiting room. Sam was waiting for them with Bobby, Ryker and his boyfriend Julien, India Arlington and Stella's parents.  
"Easton's here." He couldn't keep the grin from his face.  
Stella's mother was absolutely thrilled with the fact that she had a grandson. Her husband had to keep her from rushing into Stella's room. Sam stood up, clapping Dean on the back.  
"Congrats, man."  
Dean's stomach fell. This wasn't real. He didn't have a son. He wasn't married to Stella. They would never have this life together. The thought made him sick.

"Easton, I love you very very much. You know that. But your mommy and daddy like to sleep too." Dean sighed, leaning over the crib. The five week old stared up at him, brown eyes watery with soon to come tears. Dean scooped him into his arms. "But there's nothing else I'd rather be sleep deprived for, little man." Dean shook his head.  
Stella was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed. "I swear, I think I'm invading on your father-son bonding time everytime I come to feed him." She laughed.  
Dean rolled his eyes. "Go back to sleep, babe. I can feed him." He had made a habit of always getting up when Easton cried during the night. It let Stella sleep.  
"Right. Because your lactating right now." She produced a wry smile.  
"You pumped earlier. I can give him a bottle. Just go back to sleep. You have work tomorrow."  
She kissed him briefly on the lips and gave Easton a small kiss on his chubby cheek. "My two favorite boys." He watched her go back to their bedroom.  
Dean went down the stairs and turned on the television, changing it to a rerun of the football game that occured earlier in the day. He warmed up a bottle and settled into a comfortable position in his recliner. Easton finished the bottle quickly and Dean burped him. Easton ended up laying on Dean's chest, completely passed out. Soon enough, Dean was asleep too.  
He was woken by a half dressed wife with a coffee mug in her hand.  
"Cute." She smiled, kissing his forehead.  
He smiled groggily. "What time is it?"  
She said it was nearly eight. "I have to leave soon. So you better get up and love me." She said sternly. She put her mug down and took Easton. "Oh, Mommy loves you so much, sweet boy. I hate leaving you but Daddy loves forcing you to watch sports all day."  
Dean climbed from the chair, stretching his limbs. "For your information, Sam is coming over today. So it's a real boys day."  
Stella rolled her eyes. "Right. Just remember that our son is too young to start working on cars and drinking beer." She meant it jokingly.  
"Stella, I would never-."  
She looked at him. "I was kidding, Dean. You know that." She handed Easton back to Dean and ran up the stairs. She came back minutes later, fully dressed. "I do hate leaving you too. I wish I could stay here forever." She sighed.  
"The children of Pinston Elementary need you, babe." Dean reminded her.  
She smiled, kissing his cheek.

The kids splashed in the kiddie pool, laughing and squealing.  
Stella looked at Sam's wife, Reva. "You're going to love being a mom, Reva. It's the only thing that rivals the happiness that being a wife brings." She handed her a glass of lemonade.  
Reva laughed. "You always seem to be smiling. I'll give you that."  
Stella kissed Dean's cheek. "How can I not? Life couldn't be better for me. I have a great husband, three amazing children. I have everything I could possibly ever want or need in this little town."  
"Mom!" Easton yelled.  
Stella looked back at him. "What is it?"  
"I'm hungry." He pouted.  
"Hungry!" One of the twins agreed.  
Stella looked at Dean. "I'll go get the food." He told her. Ellie clambered from the small pool, following him into the house. "Hey angel." He smiled down at his daughter. She held her hands up and he picked her up. "Let's get these sandwiches out there, yeah?" She nodded. She helped him carry the platter outside and sit it on the picnic table. "Food has been delivered!" Dean announced.  
Both the boys climbed from the pool and rushed over to the table. Easton handed his baby brother a sandwich. "Be very careful, Georgie. Mom will not be happy if you drop it." He warned him.  
Stella frowned. "Easton, don't scare your brother like that." Georgie nibbled on his sandwich slowly, holding it carefully. Dean sat Ellie on the table and gave her a sandwich.  
"Remember to take small bites you guys." He reminded them.  
Ellie nodded at him.  
"She completely adores him. It's ridiculous." Stella told Reva.  
Sam laughed. "Daddy's little girl. Imagine what will happen when she starts dating."  
Dean's eyes widened. "Ellie's never going to date, are you, angel?" He asked her.  
She shook her head furiously. "Boys are icky!"  
Dean smiled. "That's my girl."  
Stella laughed. "I thought he was done for with Easton but Ellie took right to him. She always knew, from the start, that Dean was the one who wouldn't let her cry it out. He had her spoiled by the end of the first month." Stella explained to Reva.  
Dean looked at his three children. Five year old Easton with his dark brown eyes and Dean's blond/brown hair. Three year olds Georgie and Ellison who had Dean's flecked green eyes and Stella's light blond hair.  
These were not real children. Reva was not real. But it felt real. All of it felt real. Everytime he kissed Stella, it felt real. Everytime he picked up his daughter, it felt real. Everytime he built a block tower with his sons, it felt real. And everytime the five of them sat down for a meal, it felt real.  
He needed to find that djinn.

Dean looked in the mirror. He felt weak. He knew what was happening. He was dying. He had stayed too long. Gotten too consumed in the fantasy world where he was happily married with children. Where Sam was happily married with a child on the way. Dean rubbed his hands against his face.  
His eyes found the necklace around his throat. A memory sparked. The car crash. Stella's scream. Sam's shout. A flash of blue in front of his eyes.  
"This isn't real." He told himself, his fingers curling around the charm.  
"Daddy! Daddy!" Ellie shouted for him, running towards him. He looked down at her just as he ripped the necklace from his throat.  
She started to dissolve before him. The house began to disappear. Everything was leaving, disappearing before his eyes.  
"I'm sorry, angel."

He woke up to brown eyes. "Fuck." He groaned, shutting his eyes again.  
"Dean? Please don't go back to sleep." She pleaded.  
He opened one eye. "Stella? It's really you?"  
"Why wouldn't it be?" She laughed. The scar caused her cheek not to crinkle all the way. Her scar. This was real. She leaned over. "I was worried sick about you, Dean. The doctors did a CAT scan to make sure your brain was okay because you weren't waking up but everything was fine and then Sam said that the necklace was a djinn necklace and we wouldn't be sure if you would wake up or not. He said it was your choice. But then I saw the necklace dissolve and...I got scared. Sam's on his way." She rambled.  
"How long was I out?"  
"Six days." Six real days. Six fake years. He sat up. "I'm really glad you're okay, Dean. I thought the wreck was worse than it seemed but neither of the cars were going very fast so no one is hurt and the insurance is going to cover everything. The car is pretty scratched and dented but I know you want to fix it yourself so it's already in the garage an-." He cupped her face with his hands and cut her off with a kiss.  
Her hands grabbed his shoulders and she pulled away. Her brown eyes were wide. "Dean?"


	12. Indescribable Feelings- Chapter 12

"I'm in love with you, Stella."  
She stared back at him. She didn't know what to say. Her throat caught, her chest heaved. "What?" She whispered.  
Dean blinked, like he was trying to figure out why he had just said that to her. "I-I'm in love with you." In love with her. Dean Winchester was in love with her. She stood up. "Stella." He sighed, sitting up.  
She shook her head. "I have to go. I'm sorry."  
She walked towards the door quickly.  
"Stella, wait." He begged.  
She didn't turn around. She couldn't look at him. She just kept going.

"Wait, he actually said he was in love with you?" Sam asked.  
Stella narrowed her eyes. "Is it really that hard to believe?"  
He said no. "I just didn't think he was ever going to admit it. Been waiting on it for a good while, Stella." He laughed. "What did you say back?"  
Her cheeks went hot. "I may have just...not said anything and ran away." She admitted quietly.  
Sam groaned. "Stella! Dean just admitted he had actual feelings for you and you ran away?" She nodded. He rubbed his forehead. "What are you going to do now?"  
She said she didn't know. "It's a lot to process, Sam. I think I should go back home for a few days."  
His eyes bugged out of his head. "You can't leave, Stella. What's he going to think?"  
"I'll be back in a few days. I just need some time to think."

Stella's fist beat against the door impatiently. "Ryker! Get up, you idiot!" She shouted, hoping he would hear her.  
She heard him groan and he opened the door. She had woken him up. He was only wearing a white tank top and boxers. "Stella." He smiled lazily. "Didn't know you were back in town." She shrugged and pushed past him into his apartment. "Hey, now isn't a good time, Stell." He tried to tell her.  
"Ryker, when are you coming back to bed?" Someone called. A male someone.  
Stella raised her eyebrows. "Thought you were straight."  
He smiled. "Bisexual, actually. What's up, cupcake?"  
She put her purse down and sat on the couch. "Dean and I were in a car accident."  
"What? Are you okay?"  
She nodded slowly. "Uh, in the hospital...Dean told me he loved me. That he was in love with me."  
Ryker rubbed his eyes. "And you said...?"  
"Nothing." She squeaked. "I came here."  
He sat down on the couch, groaning. "Stella, what the hell? He tells you he loves you, and you run away? I'm sorry if I'm incorrect but isn't this what you've wanted for almost a year?"  
"Well, yes, but-."  
"No buts, Ace. He admitted that he was in love with you and we all know you're in love with him. So that means you go back and profess your undying love and everything is lemon peasy again."  
She looked down at her feet. Why wasn't it as easy as Ryker said it was? She did love Dean. So she wasn't sure why she didn't want to tell him that. He had told her and she knew how hard it was for him to say what he was really feeling. "You're right. I need to tell him how I feel."  
He rolled his eyes. "Duh. I'm always right, Ace. Now, get your skinny ass out of my apartment. I have a prior engagement to finish handling." He winked.  
"What's his name?" She pried.  
"Don't ask questions about my romantic endeavors and I won't ask questions about your scars because I know that one on your cheek did not happen in a car crash." He said.  
Her hand covered her cheek. "See you later, Ryker."

Stella really disliked flying. She loved heights, so that wasn't the problem. It was the fact that she could fly first class but she always went coach. She took her phone out, just checking messages.  
"Miss, you're going to have to put your phone away." The flight attendant reminded her.  
She held up her hand. "Just a second." She whispered. Sam had texted her. Dean was gone. He had left. "Shit."  
"Miss. Your phone. We're about to take flight."  
Stella looked up at the woman. "I said fucking hold on." She hissed. After a moment, she took a deep breath and apologized, putting her phone in her purse.  
It was going to be a long ass flight.

Sam and Bobby were waiting for her at baggage claim. "Next time, tell an old man before you up and leave." Bobby grumbled as she bent down to hug him. "Sam can't cook for shit and I didn't have time to go get microwave dinners."  
She laughed, kissing his forehead. "Sorry, old man. I'll call next time."  
"Who're you callng old?" He asked her.  
She looked at Sam, who was grinning. "Why don't you make us some dinner?" Sam asked her.  
"Of course. What are you in the mood for?"  
Sam and Bobby both said anything as long as it wasn't microwave dinner.

She stabbed at her lasagna. Sam attempted to make small talk, but she wasn't feeling it. When they were finished, she took Sam and Bobby's plates to the kitchen and washed their dishes. She put them away once they were clean and leaned against the counter.  
"Hey. You okay?" Sam asked her, entering the kitchen.  
She shrugged. "I've been better. A lot better. I just...I guess I didn't expect him to leave." She should have, though. She should have known he wouldn't wait around on her forever.  
"You've had a rough couple weeks, Stella. Don't beat yourself up over this. He'll come back. He always does. It's just a matter of when."  
She knew he was right.  
"You're in love with him, aren't you? Is that why you're beating yourself up about this?" Sam asked quietly.  
Stella bit the inside of her cheek. "I should have said something to him. Anything really. Or called him. I should have said it back."  
Because what if he didn't come back? He would die not knowing that she was head over heels in love with him.

Mindlessly, her hands kneaded the pie dough. Music was playing but she wasn't really listening. It was just there so she wouldn't be in silence. Sam and Bobby had gone on a quick case. Just a simple salt and burn, Sam told her. She hoped so. She didn't want to be alone in this house for long.  
She pressed the dough into the pan and poured the cooked cherries in and then put the top crust on. She set a timer and slid the pie into the oven to cook.  
Time for laundry.  
She knew that the guys didn't really want her doing their laundry, but she also knew that they wouldn't actually come out and say that. She enjoyed it.  
Stella picked her phone up from the counter and scrolled through her music. There were hundreds of songs she had never heard before. Songs that Dean had downloaded once. She moved on to her playlists and chose Dean's. It had all of his songs, all of the music she had never listened to. She put her earbuds in and slid her phone into her jeans pocket.  
She got Bobby's laundry and put it in the washer. Then she cleaned up his room while she waited for the timer to go off.  
She thought that listening to Dean's music would cause her to think about him more, but it didn't. It put her at ease. Who would have thought that he had good taste in music?  
She tossed Sam's dirty clothes into the washer when she switched Bobby's to the dryer. She didn't have to clean Sam's room so she moved on to Dean's, picking up his dirty laundry as she went. She folded Bobby's clothes after putting Dean's in the wash and Sam's to dry, putting them on his bed for him to put away later.  
As she went through the house, she cleaned. That combined with Dean's playlist, kept her mind busy. She took the pie out of the oven when it was time. She cleaned all the bathrooms and the living room, the study, and the kitchen.  
And then they came home.  
"Stella! We're back!" Sam shouted.  
"In the kitchen!" She replied as she put away the window cleaner.  
She heard their bags drop in the living room. Sam leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. "Looks like you had fun while we were gone." He laughed.  
"Pie?" She asked. "It's cherry."  
"Dean's favorite." He noted. She grimaced. "Speaking of, have you heard from him?" She could hear the tinge of concern in his voice. He masked it well enough so maybe she wouldn't worry. But she always worried.  
"No. Why? Is he okay?"  
Sam told her to calm down. "We just haven't heard from him today yet. He's supposed to check in once a day." And it was nearly five. "Don't worry, Stella. He always calls."  
Stella chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I'm gonna start on dinner. Why don't you two go take some showers, change clothes and rest up until dinner's ready?"  
Sam nodded. "Thank you, Stella. For everything."

Two in the morning and she hadn't been to sleep yet. She couldn't sleep. Not until she knew Dean was okay. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and dialed Dean's number. Four rings. And then an answer.  
"I was sleepin'." She could tell. His voice was groggy.  
"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called." She whispered.  
She heard him swallow. "Stella. Everything okay?"  
She couldn't think of anything to say. She couldn't say sorry, not over the phone. She couldn't tell him she loved him, not over the phone.  
"Stella?"  
"When are you coming home?" It was the only thing she could think of.  
He sighed. "I'm not sure. Why?"  
"I miss you."  
"Stell-."  
"Dean, I- I'm so-." The line went dead and she knew he hung up on her.

"So, Dean called this morning. Told me you called him in the middle of the night." Sam sat down beside her on the couch.  
Stella shrugged. "So?"  
"He'll come home soon."  
She glared at him. "It doesn't matter, Sam. I had my chance. What's done is done."  
"How about we go out tonight? Just you and me. We'll go to the bar, have some drinks."  
She smiled. "That sounds like a bad idea, Sam. And the last time we went through on a bad idea, Dean got possessed, I almost died and then Dean told me he loved me."  
He laughed. "Sounds like we've got nothing to lose then, huh? We'll leave around nine thirty."

Her stomach was curling from anxiety. Sam wanted to leave their phones at the house. This was a no distractions night.  
They sat at the bar. Sam had his hand curled around a bottle of beer and Stella hadn't even touched her vodka soda.  
"I can seriously feel the concern coming off your body, Stella." Sam said after taking a drink from his beer. She rolled her eyes. "Okay. You need something stronger than a vodka soda."  
Two hours later, Stella was drunk. Not slightly buzzed or a little bit intoxicated. She was drunk drunk. And she didn't get drunk drunk often.  
Sam kept a watchful eye on her. She twirled around the less than crowded bar, a whole bottle of whiskey in her hand.  
"Sam! Come dance with me! I'm lonely!" She called to him, almost knocking someone in the head with the bottle.  
Sam stood up from the bar and walked over to her. "This was a good idea, Sammy! I'm having so much fun!" She squealed. Sam smiled.  
"Good for you. Why don't I take this," he reached for the whiskey bottle but she scrambled away from him.  
"Mine." She growled.  
He reached again. "I don't think you need anymore alcohol, Stella. Maybe we should get going towards home, yeah?"  
Stella shook her head. "No, Sammy! I'm having fun and I want to keep having fun! Please don't make me go home!" She whined.  
He sighed. "Just for another forty minutes. Then we leave." Reluctantly, she agreed. He stepped back to the bar and watched her.  
She was right. This had been a good idea on his part. She was making herself miserable cooping up in the house, spending all of her time waiting on him and Bobby and then only thinking about Dean at night when she wouldn't be able to sleep. She was going crazy.  
If only he could get Dean to come home before she completely gave up and left.

Stella felt completely free. All she wanted was to dance and have fun and that's exactly what she was doing. She felt someones eyes on her. She knew Sam was keeping an eye on her from the bar, but this felt wrong. She stopped dancing and stood still. She looked around the bar. The only person here she knew was Sam. And Jules, the bartender. But Sam and Jules were talking to each other. Someone else was watching her. Her drunken eyes scanned the room. Everyone was absorbed in their own worlds. Except for one man. Tall, blonde hair, impeccable fashion sense. Ezra.  
"Oh shit." Stella whispered. She took a drink of the whiskey and swallowed. She went to the bar and grabbed Sam's elbow. "I want to go home." She told him.  
She put the bottle on the bar. "Five minutes ago, you never wanted to leave."  
"Sam, please. Take me home." She whispered.  
He nodded. "Okay. Okay. We'll go home."

"Sam!" Stella groaned, holding her forehead. She had the worst hangover headache. "I'm so going to kill you for letting me have whiskey!" She hollered as she went down the stairs.  
"Sam isn't here. He went to the store." Someone said.  
She grabbed onto the counter to keep from falling. "How did you get in?"  
Ezra shrugged. "Wasn't hard. Sam left the door unlocked when he left. I guess he thought you were safe. Boy, was he wrong." He grinned.  
She wasn't afraid. Not of him. Not anymore. She had gone through things far worse than anything he could ever do to her. "I'm not scared of you anymore, Ezra. I've been hurt by things worse than you."  
"Baby, nothing's worse than me. I thought you knew that." He smirked.  
Demons. Demons were worse than him. Demons, shifters, vampires. "Leave. Get out of my house and stay away from me." She hissed.  
He grabbed her wrist and pushed her against the counter. "You gave up a penthouse with me in the Upper East Side for a salvage yard in Sioux Falls? What the hell kind of crisis are you going through?"  
She snatched her arm away.  
"I said to leave, Ezra. I will call the police on you."  
He shook his head. "No you won't, baby. You want me here. I saw the way you looked at me last night in that bar. You still want me. You've always wanted me."  
Her lip curled in disgust. "Never in a mill-." He cut her off. With a kiss. She shoved him away and he crashed into the table. "I told you to stay the hell away from me a long time ago. Did a restraining order not make that clear?" She growled at him.  
He stood up. "You're going to pay for that." He warned her.  
Right when he lunged for her, he was jerked back. "Dude. She said leave."  
Dean.  
He shoved Ezra to the side. "Get the hell out. Before one of us kills you."  
Ezra sent Stella what was supposed to be a chilling look but it did nothing to scare her. He left wordlessly.  
Stella looked at Dean. "You came home."  
"Yeah. So did you."  
For the first time in her life, Stella smiled awkwardly. "I had something important to tell you. But I came back and you were gone."  
He stepped closer. "Something important, huh? Like what?"  
She swallowed. "I'm in love with you."  
His eyes darkened. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Really? You couldn't tell me that when I was laying in the hospital, trying to pour my heart out to you? Or how about after I almost killed you. Or when you came back from the dead? Or any fucking time?"  
"I was scared. You're a hunter. What you do isn't normal, there's no guarantee that you're going to come home. I didn't want to fall in love with you and then you let me down."  
"Well, I let everyone down. Sorry." He muttered.  
She rolled her eyes. "That isn't what I meant, Dean! I can't handle always worrying about whether you're going to come home or not. I don't sleep while you're gone. I worry sick about you. I don't want to lose you. I can't."  
His face softened. "You're never going to lose me, Stella. I promise you that."  
"Don't promise me that. You can't keep that promise. There's a possibility of you dying every time you walk out of that door."  
He sighed. "I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. But I didn't know it until you left me. Until you died in my arms. And I couldn't believe that I let you die without telling you I loved you."  
His eyes were staring into hers. Boring into her soul. "I can't believe I died without telling you the same thing." She smiled.  
He grabbed her by the shoulders, his hands running up to her neck. "So I'm going to tell you everyday for the rest of my life how much you mean to me. How much I love you."  
She nodded. "I think that's a fantastic plan." She whispered.  
He kissed her.


	13. Heaven- Chapter 13

Heaven- Chapter Thirteen

He woke up next to her, just like he did every morning when they were both there. But it was different this time. She felt closer to him than usual.  
"Good morning." He whispered. Part of him didn't want to wake her. She looked so at peace. But he wanted to tell her he loved her. Every day for the rest of his life.  
Stella stirred. She looked up at him, giving him a lazy smile. "Hey handsome." She murmured.  
"Breakfast?" He asked her.  
She sat up, running her hand over her face. "Yeah. I'll make pancakes. Just let me jump in the shower first." She pushed the covers back from her body and stretched her arms.  
Ever the chef. Dean grabbed her hand. "No. I'll cook. You always cook. But yes, we definitely shower first." Her eyes lit up as he smirked down at her.  
"You're serious?"  
He nodded. She practically scampered from the bed to the bathroom. A few moments later, she leaned out of the doorway, just her head.  
"Are you coming or not, Dean?"  
Dean jumped from the bed to the bathroom. Stella stood before him. Completely. Naked.

Stella leaned against the counter, watching him. He glanced back at her as he flipped a pancake. She was looking at the newspaper.  
"Can I ask you a question?" She didn't look up from the paper.  
He said sure.  
"Will you tell me what your dream was about? The djinn one?"  
He stopped. "You don't want to know, Stella." She asked if it was that bad. "It wasn't a nightmare. It was a dream. One that made me realize just how much I was in love with you."  
"Then tell me. If it was that crazy, I want to know."  
He finished the pancakes and slid three for her on a plate and his four on a plate. He left ten for Bobby and Sam. He poured syrup and spread butter on hers and handed her the plate.  
"It's...difficult. Time moves differently in those dreams. For me it was six years, but it was only six days." She told him to get on with it. "We got married. Had three kids. It was a good life. God, we were so happy. And Sam was married, his wife was gonna have a kid. Things were so good, Stella." Her brown eyes stared back at him, unreadable. "I wanted to stay there. I was going to let myself die like that. But I knew it wasn't real. And I knew that you were here. You, Sam, Bobby. And I couldn't die without telling you how completely in love with you I am."  
She smiled sincerely. "Do you think that will happen one day? We'll all be genuinely happy and carefree?"  
Dean shrugged. "Can't say. But I'm genuinely happy with you."

Stella was dancing around the kitchen as she cleaned. Dean thanked the high heavens she wasn't singing along too. It was a generally slow song, but she danced like it was an upbeat one. She spun towards him, unaware of his presence. He reached out and grabbed her hand. She spun into him, laughing.  
"Hey." She smiled as his arms wrapped around her.  
"Hi." He whispered.  
For a while, they danced. Dean stopped when the song went off. "Something's wrong. What is it?" She asked, frowning.  
"We gotta leave on a hunt. All of us." He regretted taking the case, but it was his job. "Don't worry. We're gonna leave Cas here with you." He added.  
"How long are you going to be gone?" She whispered as they swayed back and forth. Dean said he wasn't sure, but it probably wouldn't be very long. "When are you leaving?"  
Oh, he didn't want to leave her. "Tonight."  
Her face fell and she pulled away from him. "Okay. I have to finish cleaning." She mumbled.  
His arms fell to his side as she walked away. "Stella, don't be like that. You know that this is my job."  
She stopped but didn't look back. "It isn't a job, Dean. It's a hobby. You and I both know that."

Stella apparently hadn't wanted to tell them bye. She hadn't left her room. Dean had mumbled a soft good-bye and an I love you through her bedroom door before leaving.  
He was driving down the interstate, glancing down at his phone every few seconds.  
"Call already, jeez. You're driving me nuts." Sam grumbled, handing Dean his phone.  
Dean dialed the number and it rang a few times. "Hey, Stella. Everything okay?" He asked, reigning in a relieved sigh.  
She laughed on the other end of the phone. "You've been gone maybe twenty minutes. I'm fine. I'm making dinner. This angel you've sent doesn't have any meat on his bones at all. He's withering away right in front of me."  
Dean smiled. "Cas is gonna take good care of you, Stella. And I'll be home really soon."  
"Okay, Dean. Stay safe or I swear, I'll kill you." He didn't doubt it one bit. "I love you." She whispered.  
His heart surged. He would never get used to her saying it. "I love you too." He hung up after a few silent seconds and put his phone down, focusing on the road once again. From the corner of his eye, he could see his brother smirking. "What do you look so smug about?" He grumbled.  
Sam shook his head, his smile widening. "Nothing. It's just good to see you happy, man."  
It felt good to be happy.

Two vamps down, one to go. But, where the hell was it? It wasn't with its 'friends' or anywhere to be found. "Sam! You find anything?" No reply. "Sam?" Dammit. "Sammy!" His brother didn't answer his calls. Dean whipped out his phone and dialed Sam's number. He could hear it ringing. He followed the noise down the dusty hallway. The phone was lying on the ground, buzzing against the concrete flooring. "Dammit, Sammy, where are you?"  
Dean raised his gun and looked down the hall. If that bloodsucker hurt his brother...  
"Dean!" Sam shouted from somewhere. "Dean!"  
He ran down the hall, following the sound of his brother's shouts. He found Sam tied to pole in the storage room. The vamp was standing over him. He had been waiting for him.  
"Bout time, Winchester." The vamp sounded irritated.  
Dean rolled his neck. This wasn't going to be fun. "Sorry. I don't set my watch to vamp times." He apologized sarcastically.

He woke up to his phone ringing. His head was busting. His phone went silent. He sat up, looking around. The vamp's head was looking right at him. Gross.  
"Bout time you woke up." Sam muttered. Still tied to that pole. Dean untied him. "Your phone's been ringing for the past twenty minutes. Pretty sure it's Stella."  
Dean hit redial and braced himself.  
"Are you okay?" Stella's voice was sharp.  
He nodded, realizing after the fact that she couldn't see him. "Fine. Just, got a little tied up. Everything okay on your end?"  
"Good, yeah, everything's good. Listen, I'm not feeling too well so I'll probably be asleep when you get home, if you're coming home tonight or early in the morning. I don't think I can stand waiting up." He asked her what was wrong. "It's probably nothing. Maybe a little cold, possibly the flu. But I'm gonna go to sleep and see if I feel any better when I wake up."  
In the years that they had lived together, Stella had never gotten sick. Never caught a cold, never even a sniffly nose. She took all sorts of multi-vitamins and didn't eat a ton of junk food. She didn't eat anything that was fried.  
"Okay, well, when we get back, I'll make you feel better."  
"Dude, I'm right here!" Sam groaned.  
Dean smiled to himself. "I'll be waiting." Stella whispered. And he knew she was smiling too.

She was asleep in his- their- bed. The sheets were curled around her body, cocooning her. Her face was buried under his pillow and he could see the black material of one of his shirts from under the blanket. He kicked off his shoes and gently crawled into the bed beside her. She stirred as he wrapped his arms around her to cradle her closer to him.  
"When'd you get back?" She mumbled sleepily.  
He adjusted as she did, her leg slipping between both of his, her head nuzzled on his chest. "Just a few minutes ago. Go back to sleep. I'll make you some soup when you wake up."  
She opened one of her eyes to look up at him. "You don't know how to make soup." She cracked a small smile.  
"I'll learn. Can't be that hard." He told her.  
She closed her eye and tried to get closer, but they were already too close to slip a piece of paper between them. "It'll be good soup. You'll make good soup." She assured him. He smiled to himself. "G'night, Dean." Her voice was quiet, her words slurred. She was already almost back asleep.  
"Goodnight, Stella."  
She woke him up the next morning, her fingers dancing along the base of his throat. "Dean, are you awake?" She whispered.  
"How could I not be?" He asked groggily. "Can't take my eyes off you." He smiled at her sleepily.  
She snuggled into his chest, her arms around his waist. "Where's my soup?"  
He sat up, pushing her away. "I'll get right on it, babe." Dean got out of the bed, pulling on a pair of jeans he had apparently stripped away in the middle of the night. He went to the kitchen, Stella quietly tagging along behind him. "What kinda soup?"  
She shrugged, leaning against the counter. "I'm not really sick, you know. I just feel really dizzy and my head hurts." She reminded him.  
He rolled his eyes as he turned on the stove. "Sick, in other words. Chicken noodle seems to be a good option, right?" She nodded as he took a chicken breast from the freezer and tossed it in the microwave after unwrapping it. After the water began boiling, he poured egg noodles into the pot. When the timer on the microwave went off, he took the chicken out and cut it into small pieces, sliding them into the pot along with the noodles.  
He let the soup simmer, moving closer to Stella. "You never told me what you majored in when you were at Dartmouth." She opened her mouth and then closed it. He raised his eyebrows. "Stella?"  
"Majoring. What I'm majoring in." She corrected him quietly.  
"What?"  
She rubbed her face with her hands. "I re-enrolled in college. I'm going back to Dartmouth in the fall."  
She was going back to college? Back to New Hampshire?  
"So, were you just going to up and leave one morning? Were you even going to say anything?" He grumbled, pushing away from her.  
She sighed. "Yes, Dean. I just...I didn't know how. I mean, so much has changed and...and I still want to do something with my life." He could understand that. But he wished she had said something sooner. "You're always gone and I'm just sitting here, waiting for you to come back."  
He understood. He really did. He just didn't want to be away from her. He couldn't handle it. "I don't want you to go." He said softly.  
It was typical. He was happy and then it was snatched away. "Dean, I'm not leaving. I mean, I'm going back to Dartmouth, yes, but I'm only a phone call away and we can talk everyday and-."  
He turned away from her. He focused his attention on the pot of noodles and broth on the stove. If he looked at her, he might yell. She frustrated him so damn much. "Dean, please look at me." She begged.  
"That long distance shit doesn't work. Everyone knows that. What the hell was the point in you coming back if you were just going to leave again?" He hissed.  
She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry." She murmured.  
"Don't be fucking sorry. It's your life. Do whatever the hell you want."  
He thought she would have left after that. But he never heard her move. "Dean, please don't be like this. I don't want you to be angry with me."  
He turned around, his hand almost knocking the pot off the stove and into the floor. "I'm not fucking angry!" He shouted. She jumped at the volume of his voice.  
"Then what are you...?"  
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "If you go, you might not come back. And I don't think I could handle it."  
Her eyes softened. She took a step towards him and then her body fell forward. He caught her just before she hit the ground.  
"Stella?" Her eyes were closed. He held his ear to her chest. Her heart was beating. She just wasn't responding. "Shit." He grabbed the keys from the counter and hauled her to the car. He laid her down in the passenger seat and put her seat belt on her. What the fuck just happened?

Dean sat in the chair, elbows pressed on his knees and chin in his hand. Stella was lying in the bed, still asleep, hooked up to monitors.  
The soft knock on the door woke her up. Dean stood as the doctor walked in. "Hi, I'm Doctor Fitzpatrick. I've been taking care of Stella." He was older, maybe forty. Dean nodded and asked why she collapsed. "We sent Stella in for a CT and MRI. The scans are showing a small aneurysm in her brain."  
An aneurysm. She had an aneurysm.  
"Can you take it out?"  
Dr. Fitzpatrick frowned. "We could certainly try. But the risk of Stella losing her brain function is very great. And the survival rate of the surgery is slim."  
"So she's just gonna have to wait for that thing to burst and kill her?" Dean growled.  
Dr. Fitzpatrick pulled the scan from the chart. He pointed to a small blob in the middle of Stella's brain. "This is the aneurysm. It's minuscule. It's hardly even detectable on most machines. An aneurysm this small has a very, very low risk of rupturing. The possibility of her being struck by lightning is more likely than this aneurysm killing her."  
"I'm fine." Stella told Dean. "I can go home tonight. Everything is fine." She told him.  
He nodded. And then Cas was fixing her.  
He had her discharged and once they got her in the car, he prayed to Cas. The angel showed up in the backseat of the Impala. "Heal her. Get rid of it." He told the angel.  
Stella put a hand on his arm. "No. I'm fine. Dean, it isn't right anyways. No one else gets to have an angel who can magically fix all their health problems. I'm not going to abuse Cas' power like that."  
Why was she so damn righteous about this shit?

She was laying next to him, so still he thought she was asleep. But then she stirred, turning over to face him. "I'm sorry I won't let him heal me. But it just isn't right." She murmured.  
He licked his lips. "I'm just scared I'm gonna lose you again."  
She brought herself closer to him. "That is never going to happen, Dean. I'm always going to be with you. No matter what."  
But that wasn't true. Not physically. She was going back to New Hampshire in a few months, going back to the lifestyle she was born to have.  
"Listen, I have a proposition for you. I was thinking that you could maybe, you know, move with me?" He stared back at her blankly. "To New Hampshire. We could get an apartment off campus. I'm sure there are going to be cases there."  
She was serious. He only knew because she was mentioning the possibility of cases. She was okay with it. Maybe not whole-heartedly, but she was okay with him hunting.  
"If you don't want to, I understand. I just know that being so far away from each other isn't going to be easy and we're both going to be worried all the time. I really do understand if you don't want-."  
He cut her off with a kiss. It was brief, but sweet. He pulled away from her smiling. She looked slightly confused.  
"Is that a yes?" She whispered happily.  
"It's a hell fucking yes."


End file.
